The Only One He Ever Loved
by Halfblood Fiend
Summary: Kaitleen Miller came to Hogwarts expecting to be great. What she never expected, was Tom Riddle. What she never saw coming was his unwanted affection. He thrust her into a dark place she was never ready for, twisted her take on reality and love until she didn't know right from wrong. She desperately tried to keep it a secret, but the purple-black marks were harder to hide.
1. Chapter 1- Her Archenemy

Author's Note: As you may have gathered from the description, this is not really a nice story. It's rated T right now, but as it progresses into their relationship, it gets dark and abusive. I find it rather beautiful that way; i'm not sorry, I'm twisted. Anyway, if you're of the faint of heart, maybe turn back now? But I _certainly _want to say _right now_ that I **do not** condone this sort of behavior. Allow me to repeat that.

**I do not condone abusive relationships.** **_EVER._**

They are tragic, but unfortunately real, and I feel very strongly that as beautiful as Tom Riddle was, his personality was abhorrent. Obviously, since he is Voldemort. That's just my take, and this is my twisted story about a romance with the boy.

But I must say, it is one of my favorites. Among the best I've written.

So, please, enjoy it as a piece of strictly fiction.

* * *

I, Kaitleen Miller am nothing too special. In between everything, I was average. Average height, average looks, average weight. Average and hating it. That was me. To make up for this, it was my life's mission—I _made_ it my life's mission—to be smart. Not even just smart, that was nowhere near good enough for me. I needed to be intelligent, above average, superior; all cunning and sharp brains, keen intellect and biting remarks. And I _succeeded_. I was _proud_ of it. I _was_ the best…

…Until I met Tom Riddle.

Well, we haven't actually formally "met". We just happened to be in Slytherin together, both academically excelling. We both unintentionally competed against, and competed _fiercely_. The fact was, I hated that boy. No. Hate wasn't a strong enough word. I _detested_ him. Yeah. That's a more accurate word. I detest that boy. He was a jerk regardless of the fact he never actually _acted_ like a jerk. Actually, come to think of it, Riddle never acted like _anything_. He was stiff, emotionless, and empty. His dark eyes were lifeless, he moved like an Inferius, going from place to place purposelessly. Somehow he still had every answer. Sure, he was smart, as smart as me (which was infuriating!), but he was a jerk to the core. I didn't like him and I liked to assume that he didn't like me either. He showed absolutely no signs of acknowledging my existence except for the constant battle of brains in our classes. I didn't take it personally. He never acknowledged anyone. Sometimes, I would wonder if our rivalry was something I made up. Maybe I only competed in my head. But I wasn't about to ask. If I never spoke to him my entire life, it would be too soon. We don't talk, period.

For six years, I had managed, but that was not for lack of my best friend trying to change this. Jemma Tudyuck was—in a word—_obsessed_ with Riddle. She had somehow managed to maintain a crush on the emotionless prick for all six years. It seemed damn exhausting to me. It exhausted me just having to listen to it day in and day out. Sometimes she could get unbelievably annoying. I mean, I do love her to death, but _god,_ she has this thing with getting on my nerves. Maybe it was just the fact she was exactly what I wanted to be; tall, blonde, slim, and beautiful. Ugh, it annoyed me just thinking about it. Good thing that she was nice to me on the train first year or I would've hated her and we _probably _would've been enemies.

I sighed and slammed my brush down on the bathroom counter, gazing critically at my reflection, silently wishing I was different. I stared at my straight black hair, willing it to change to wavy blonde; my greenish-blue eyes willing them to _decide on a color already_; my pale skin I wanted to turn a few shades bronzer. It would seem that I was not an Metamorphmagus, so with another exasperated sigh, I gave up trying, grabbed my bag, and made my way up to the Great Hall.

I found my friend Jemma next to the "gang". Riddle's "gang," that is. I'd taken to calling them his "gang" in second year because none of them were really that friendly with each other. They couldn't be friends; Riddle hardly ever spoke to them! Though they surrounded him constantly, idolized him, guffawed at everything he _would_ say, they never seemed to be friends, but rather, followers. People that Riddle would _tolerate_, not necessarily hang out with. Hence, Riddle's "gang."

"Jemma, why are we sitting _here_?" I asked through clenched teeth as I sat on the bench beside her.

"Sorry, Kay. There's nowhere else," she answered innocently, her wide blue eyes betraying otherwise.

"'S fine," I mumbled grabbing a piece of toast and opening my copy of Romeo and Juliet to the folded page.

"Merlin's Y-front! He glanced over at us!" Jemma squealed after a while.

I was used to this sort of thing, so I didn't even bother to look up. "I can hear the wedding bells already, Jem," I answered dully. In the beginning, I used to fight it. I would try to reason with her and tell her she was only wasting her time. All that would result from it were massive arguments that were hardly worth the headache. She insisted on being "in love" with him. To this day, I was constantly reminding her that she was being stupid for being hopeful, as he had never had any girlfriends to my knowledge, despite his looks. So why would Jemma think she would be an exception? But I'd done my civic duty as a friend by trying to dissuade her, if she insisted, that was now her problem. He'll end up hurting her eventually when she finally figured out he wasn't interested.

"Reading again, Kay? You should have been put in Ravenclaw," Jemma chided, poking at my arm with her fork.

"You know, Riddle reads a lot too. You might want to try it someday, Jem," I replied.

Jemma huffed and let me alone for a few minutes more but soon nudged me, saying it was time for my first class.

Unfortunately, _my_ first class was shared with Riddle and we were the _only_ Slytherins in it. Apparently, Ancient Runes was not a popular class at Hogwarts. It was only for overachievers like Riddle and myself.

I slowly made my way up to the seventh floor, hovering behind Riddle and his "gang" as they dispersed. He seemed to slow down slightly as the last member of his "gang" disappeared. I wondered for a moment about whether to speed up and pass him, or to slow down more and stay behind.

Well, I'm certainly no Gryffindor, I stayed behind.

Class started normally with Riddle and I perched on opposite ends of the classroom until Professor Gallnom suddenly announced, "Alright! Today, we will translate important scriptures as a review of what you've all learned in our previous year. You will work in partners of your own choosing. Go."

I had hardly turned to ask some random person to work with me when none other than Riddle, the bastard himself, took the seat next to me. I inwardly groaned.

"_That_ seat is for my _partner_," I growled at him.

"Exactly," he said simply, starting to take out parchment.

"I'm not working with you."

"You're a Slytherin. I refuse to work with anyone else."

"Cry me a river. I suggest you get over it. I already have a partner."

"Do you?"

I glanced quickly around me. Everyone was already settling into pairs; all the nearest students were taken. Across the room, I spotted Charles Kreigger was still partner-less, but I wrinkled my nose in distaste at considering working with the nose-picking idiot. I would do all the work _and_ he would ogle my chest the whole time. That would certainly be _highly_ unpleasant. More unpleasant than working with Riddle…?

I shot a quick glare at him. He was _already_ getting on my nerves as I felt him watching me consider working with the _other_ creepy boy, black eyes empty. I almost hailed Kreigger right then, except that even _he_ got snapped up as I had just made up my mind.

Defeated, I slowly settled back into my chair and sufficed with continuing to glare daggers at Riddle.

I never made it a secret how I detested him. I avoided him at all costs since the first day he outshone me. That was one of my many suppressed memories, but I _distinctly_ remember that we had almost dueled our first day.

He turned to his book (was it just me or did he seem triumphant?). "Shall we start?"

"_I_ shall," I growled.

Finally he met my gaze, black eyes betraying a hint (and that's all it was, _a hint_) of amusement. I decided I would catalogue that as something interesting: Riddle was capable of one emotion.

We stared at each other, me putting as many daggers in my glare as I could just to show him he wasn't welcome, against Riddle's cold stare, all amusement suddenly gone. I was _determined_ not to look away. He would _not _intimidate me. After all, he was just a stupid, annoying _boy._

The staring contest persisted until Professor Gallnom came by on his rounds and said, "Come on, Kaitleen, Tom. Get to work."

"You should open your book," Riddle said flatly.

Without looking, I flipped my translations book to a random page.

Finally, Riddle looked away, down at the manuscripts we were supposed to be translating.

Triumphant, I found (to my surprise and delight) that I had flipped my book open to the correct page as I pulled out fresh parchment, ink and quills. I scooted my chair as far away from Riddle as I could reasonably go and began stiffly helping him translate the complicated symbols.

After one agonizing hour, the bell rang and I bolted as fast as I could from the classroom.


	2. Chapter 2- Her Crash

"Kay!"

I'd hardly realized where my feet were taking me but apparently out of habit I ended up in front of Professor Binns' classroom for the always thrilling lesson in History of Magic. Jemma beckoned me in enthusiastically, practically bouncing with excitement.

"Did you know he was right behind you? Was he there the whole time?" she whispered animatedly as soon as I'd come within earshot of her.

I knew who "he" referred to, of course, and I couldn't stop myself from grimacing in irritation. She watched him in wonder until his "gang" had once again encircled him and they entered the classroom as close to each other as a pack of centaurs. As they passed us, I caught him looking at me curiously (two emotions already) before he disappeared.

Thoroughly offended, I wondered if I was going crazy.

Professor Binns' droning lecture was as riveting as ever. He was beginning to touch the Goblin-Wizard War of 1348… Or maybe it was the Centaur Rebellion of… of… Needless to say, history wasn't my _favorite _subject. Try as I might to pay attention, I always slipped into a stupor. Today, a cowering spider had caught my attention as it hid in a small hole from a bird with a large beak tried to get it out. Just as I was sure drool was beginning to run out of the quarter of my mouth, the bell rang and Jemma and I made our way onto the grounds for Care Of Magical Creatures.

Jemma was being unusually giggly. I tried to ignore her, but after a particularly obnoxious bout, I snapped.

"What is _your_ problem?" I hissed, annoyed.

"It's Tom. He's right behind us," she choked happily.

I sighed and took a quick peek behind us. Lo and behold, there Riddle was, at the head of his "gang" still gazing at me with avid curiosity, his head cocked slightly. When he noticed I was looking, he locked my gaze with his and stared at me with such intensity, I had the overwhelming desire to squirm away. I was immediately unnerved and wanted nothing else but to scream, or to _run_, or _anything_ to stop him from looking at me. I would do anything, but look away. I was drawn to his gaze like magnetism and severing the connection seemed impossible. What was he playing at—

"KAY!" Jemma screeched shrilly, just in time for me to turn sharply and run right into the gigantic open oak door of the Great Hall. The impact sent me sprawling painfully to my back. The contents of my bag spilled all over the floor.

Rubbing my nose furiously and trying and failing to ignore the laughter coming from behind me, I hastily gathered up the quills and parchment that had fallen out of my bag. I cursed myself repeatedly, feeling the heat rolling in waves off my face.

"Quiet!" Riddle's low voice commanded dangerously and the guffawing immediately silenced. If I hadn't been too occupied being mortified, I might've laughed at how absurd the suddenness of it had sounded.

I heard lone footsteps coming toward me so I leapt to my feet, and sprinted out the double oak doors (narrowly avoiding colliding with the door a _second_ time). Jemma was hot on my tail, clutching some parchment rolls and quills I had missed.

"Thanks a lot, Jem," I spat, humiliated from my display.

"Well, what did you want me to do?" she hissed back.

I stumbled over my words for a while. It wasn't _her_ fault, it was mine. Or was it Riddle's? I found that I couldn't seem to keep my thoughts straight anymore. I couldn't even really remember why I hadn't been paying attention to where I was going in the first place.

"Anything," I said finally, stuffing the parchment and quills in my bag as she handed them to me. "Wait!" I cried suddenly in alarm.

"What?" Jemma asked worriedly.

"Where's my book? I lost my book! My favorite—it must've—Romeo and—" I spluttered, rummaging hopelessly in my bag. It was gone.

"Sorry, Kaitleen. We'll look for it on our way back," Jemma said as class started. I heard the indifference in her voice, but it was reassuring all the same.

The tone was set for the rest of the day. We hadn't found Romeo and Juliet on our way back and instead of making me feel better, Jemma insisted it was better I didn't read muggle rubbish anyway. Close to tears, I tried to tell her Shakespeare wasn't rubbish and that he had actually been a wizard, but she wouldn't listen. I was thoroughly upset and Jemma let me mope for the most part. I eventually worked out that Riddle was to blame. Jemma told me that was dumb, but I was perfectly happy to add this offense to my long list against him and I seethed contentedly until dinnertime. I didn't sit with the fangirling Jemma who made a mad dash for open seats next to the "gang." Instead, I spent the evening pleasantly with Olive Hornby, making fun of Myrtle from over our roast ham and mashed potatoes.

With the end of dinner, came Prefect duties. This did nothing to improve my mood. To me, this meant that there was no longer a way I could avoid Riddle.

He wasn't with his "gang." They milled around the common room uncertainly, lost without someone to follow around. Riddle must have already been out in the corridor. Steeling myself for the inevitable, I said a reluctant goodnight to Jemma, and trudged solemnly out of the wall where the entrance to the Slytherin common room was concealed.

When I stepped outside, I was greeted by an empty corridor. I couldn't believe my luck! I smiled with relief and turned to start patrolling the south dungeons when Riddle's voice echoed from behind me.

"Miller!"

I inwardly groaned and faced him.

He wasn't paying me much attention at all. He stood in the middle of the corridor, focused on the two books in his hands. One was bound with black leather and the other was a very used paperback which lay open on its cracked spine. I eyed at it curiously when it dawned on me.

"That's my book!" I cried, making a snatch for it.

Seeming to remember I was still there, he glanced up and pulled it just out of my reach.

"I'm looking at it," he said tonelessly.

"Didn't you pick it up when I dropped it? Surely you've had plenty of time to "look at it"," I replied in irritation, snatching at it again.

"Now you dropped it?" he simpered, amused, looking into my eyes.

"I—well—yes."

"Oh? From where I was standing, it seemed like you had _fallen_. Quite _ungracefully_, I might add." The corner of his lips twitched.

I sneered in an effort to cover how hot my cheeks were growing, spun on my heel and stalked off in the other direction.

"Don't you want your book back?" Riddle asked, back to his emotionless state, absentmindedly turning a page.

"You won't give it back."

"And where did you get that impression?"

"You?"

"No. I just wanted to read this."

He leaned against a wall, his eyes darting back and forth across the page. I found myself stopped too, watching him warily, glancing over him slowly. My's eyes roved over his gorgeous, wavy black hair, his pale, handsome face, and his long, lithe body that, even as he lounged extruded a sort of hidden, raw power. Couple that with his beautiful mind, and he was one attractive boy—

What was I _thinking__? _I thought absurdly, jolting myself from whatever sick consciousness I had been drifting into_._

_"_Done," he said suddenly, making me jump. He held it out to me but I didn't move a muscle. I just stared at it blankly. "Go on. Take it," he urged, watching my face carefully.

I took it and started off down the corridor yet again.

"Miller?"

I turned.

He was once again, boring into my eyes with a gaze so intense, that had it been anyone other than this stupid boy, I would have looked away. Instead, I stared determinedly back. Thankfully, this time there was no door for me to slam into.

"Never mind," he drawled, starting off the other direction.

Nonplussed, I finished the rest of my Prefect duty trying to forget the whole encounter then retired straight back to my dormitory.

I threw myself onto my bed, exhausted from my day that had never seemed to end, and fell on something hard. Remembering that Romeo and Juliet was still in my robe pocket, I fished it out and examined it for any signs of mistreatment. A page was dog eared. I scowled. I _never _folded my books. It clicked in the next second. Riddle must have been responsible, the bastard. Admittedly curious, I opened the book to the page he had been so interested in.

It was the party scene. My eyes fell to the last line on the page:

_My only love sprung from my only hate!_

_Too early seen unknown, and known too late!_

Frowning, I glanced in confusion at the door, uncomfortable with the nagging, unfamiliar feeling that was settling in the pit of my stomach. I placed the book on my bedside table with a snort of dismissal, changed quickly into my pajamas and clambered into bed. Pushing the inexplicable annoyance I felt away, I managed to drift blissfully to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3- Her Sanity

For a while, it seemed that I was only imagining things, and everything went back to normal. I had wondered at first about Riddle's interest in Romeo and Juliet, and his sudden curiosity with me, but the very next day I was treated like I was invisible again. I was relieved! He ignored me and everything else. We went back to our silent (one-sided?) rivalry in the classroom. My Prefect patrols in the evening were wonderfully Riddle-less. I could simply write off that terrible day as some sort of nightmare and move on with my life.

And for the most part, I believed it.

There were times, now and again, when things wouldn't _quite_ be normal. I would answer a question before him. He would look at me. I would glare back. It never occurred to me to think of it as odd until I realized that before two weeks ago, we liked to pretend the other didn't really exist, and that pretense relied heavily on never even looking at one another. It bothered me, but I tried not to dwell though. Dwelling would confuse my feelings, and confusion impeded my easy hatred.

When I woke on the next chilly Tuesday morning, I panicked.

Ancient Runes was Tuesday mornings and while it had turned back into being one of my favorite classes, today's lesson felt like a looming death sentence. Professor Gallnom had been so kind as to inform us last class that the next time we met, we would once again be working in pairs.

Horrifying memories kept flashing into my mind as I got up and got ready with Jemma. While she chattered on and on, I wondered if Riddle would act just as strangely today as he had the _last _time we worked in pairs. Working with him hadn't really been so bad (since he wasn't insufferably _stupid_), but it was every moment after that haunted me. His magnetic gaze, his silky voice, his long fingers flipping through my favorite book. I vaguely recalled that he had wanted to ask me something that night. I hadn't given it much thought since then, but now I wondered what it could have possibly been about. What could Riddle, a boy who had before that day hadn't seemed to know I'd existed, want to suddenly ask me? Whatever it was, I was nearly certain it would be unpleasant for me.

I was so consumed by my terrified thoughts I didn't hear a word Jemma was saying and I tried to put my robe on backwards. Twice.

"You feeling alright, Kay?" she asked me dubiously after she had guided my wand into my pocket. I had been trying and missing for three minutes.

"I'm fine."

Shrugging, she bounced out our dormitory door.

I grabbed my bag and scrambled after her then the two of us joined the throng of other Slytherins making their way up to the Great Hall. I noticed Riddle and his "gang" ahead of us and I bit back a wave of nausea. Ignorant Jemma, however, was already in a fit of mad giggles.

"I really feel it today, Kaitleen. Today will be different. He will ask me out today, I just know it," she whispered excitedly.

"And I'll be your maid of honor," I said sarcastically.

"Of course!" she squealed and hugged me.

I didn't have the heart or the patience to explain to her it _was_ sarcasm.

We traveled to our normal spot by Riddle's "gang" and settled ourselves across from each other. I really wasn't that hungry today, I was too busy trying not to be sick as it was.

The Great Hall roared deafeningly around me. I couldn't focus on anything but the slow ticking of my watch and the pounding of my heart. I waited for as long as I could, but when I couldn't take it anymore, I stood abruptly and made my way to the classroom early.

I paced in front of the door. When Professor Gallnom opened it, I sat ramrod straight in my seat, glancing uneasily at the clock.

Students filtered in.

I couldn't stop fidgeting.

As more seats filled I was beginning to hope Riddle had gotten lost, or was suddenly sick, or had fallen off a staircase—

With a rustle, Riddle took the seat next to me and I shuddered. I immediately scooted as far away as the chair would allow without my slipping off the edge. That would have been all I needed, wasn't it? Another smooth move in front of the immensely intelligent and gorgeous Riddle.

Woah. Did I just think that?

"Kaitleen?"

I jumped and _did_ slip out of my chair.

"Miller, I _suggest_ you start _paying attention_ to the lesson and stop staring at your partner," Professor Gallnom scolded. The room erupted with sniggers and I felt my face grow uncomfortably hot. Was that _really_ what I was doing? "Now if you don't mind, please sit in your chair correctly and pay attention or it'll be a detention for you. Now…" He turned back to the board and resumed his lecture.

I gingerly got back on my chair and turned firmly away from Riddle leaning my elbow on the desk. Had I really been staring at him? I wondered. No way! I would have known, right? I sighed heavily and half paid attention to what Professor Gallnom was saying. It was mildly interesting. If only I hadn't let myself get so easily flustered, I might have understood more of it. I sighed again and heard a soft answering chuckle from beside me.

"Thinking of me again?" I heard him murmur.

"In your _dreams_, Riddle," I hissed back.

He chuckled again. "No. In yours, apparently."

I rolled my eyes and ignored him.

After a painstaking hour of putting up with amused glances and snide comments while working with him, the bell relieved me of my torture and I sprinted to History of Magic. I was hoping for as much room as I could possibly place between Riddle and I. The added bonus in my mind was that if I got my blood pumping, maybe my head would clear. I was immensely disappointed when I reached the History of Magic classroom door and found myself just as confused as in the Ancient Runes classroom. Jemma arrived soon after and found me panting at the door.

"What's wrong Kay? Why've you been running?" she asked worriedly.

"I need…to talk…to you, Jem!" I panted. "I have a…_big problem_ called…called…Tom Riddle!"

She started laughing. "Are you serious? What did he do to you now? You hate him."

"I did. I do! I think I do, anyway. Jem, he's, like, _messing with my head_. It's bloody _crazy_! He's doing _something_ to me and it's _whacking out my brain_!" I cried, sounding more than a little insane. Jemma regarded me as if I was.

"Umm…Well…Perhaps you should go to the Hospital Wing?" she offered.

"Never mind, Jemma," I huffed. Riddle was coming towards us now and my heart started hammering. I searched left and right for an escape. I wanted anything but to be near him.

Professor Binns opened the door and let us in his classroom. I grabbed Jemma's hand and dragged her to the back of the room while Riddle and his "gang" filtered up to the front. Today, I couldn't seem to find my normal history stupor. My mind wouldn't ease. I was jumpy and thought at a hundred miles a second. A million questions came and went, but always one person was on my mind, and that terrified me…

"—And due next class, I want an essay on the Goblin Rebellions of 1698," Professor Binns called.

The entire class groaned in unison but he paid no mind as the bell rang.

Perfect. More to distract me! Breathing a sigh of relief, I decided to use my free period now to get a start on the essay. You know what had _absolutely nothing_ to do with Riddle? Goblin rebellions! I thought giddily as I made my way to the library. No more Riddle to deal with. Not for an entire hour, at least. This felt so amazing, I felt like I could fly…except that I was miserable on a broomstick. The last time I tried, I ended up both upside-down and backwards on it. I laughed aloud at the memory as I walked straight to the stacks housing all the dusty history books.

I browsed the titles carefully then found one particularly large one on Goblin rebellions through the ages. It was a good place to start, I guessed. I hefted it up with a small grunt and sifted through the index.

"Is there another copy?" a cold, quiet voice said from behind me.


	4. Chapter 4- Her Confusion

My stomach back flipped as I spun to find Riddle standing there, motionless, expressionless. Stop it, I ordered my stomach angrily as it did another flip when I looked into his cold eyes. What do you think you are, Stomach? An acrobat?

"No," I said curtly, and turned away from him again. I tried to concentrate on the lists of battles in tiny print on the table of contents page but the words swam in and out of focus.

His hands reached out and snapped the book closed in my face. I felt the wind of it on the tip of my nose as I jerked back.

"I need it. It's important," he said slowly in a charming, velvety voice.

"Didn't you write everything Binns said down, Riddle, perfect student as you are?" I sneered.

"Flattered as I am by the way you seem to think of me, it may surprise you to learn that I don't bother with notes in history." He moved a little closer, looking deep into my eyes. I had to suppress a shiver. "Give me the book."

I got lost in them for a real second, deep and abyssal and mysterious as they were, then I mentally shook myself. "No," I snapped. "It may have escaped your notice, but I'm in your class too. We have the same essay!" It bothered me just how injured I actually sounded. It had never bothered me before that Riddle paid me no mind. I had thought I preferred it. But now my voice was betraying me.

His expressionless, reserved manner melted as he stared at me to reveal anger and annoyance. "Share then," he sneered, more of a command than a suggestion.

Before I could even fully register that Riddle had just shown me not one, but _two_ more emotions than I thought him capable of, his lip curled at me in disgust (_three now?_) As my mind struggled to catch up, he took advantage of my shock by yanking the book out of my hands and he turned away with a dramatic billowing of his cloak. With a snarl, I sprung back into action and grabbed for his wrist. My wand was whipped out without thinking, leveled unwavering against his throat.

Riddle tossed me an incredulous look then he laughed! His shoulders shook uncontrollably while he suppressed unattractive snorts. I'm sure my jaw dropped. I couldn't believe the jerk was actually laughing at me while I threatened him! He obviously wasn't moved at all; he wasn't even mildly worried… I momentarily wondered if my reaction had been too hasty. Had I bit off more than I could chew? I bet Riddle could overwhelm me easily if he wanted. Just physically, he stood about a head taller than me and somehow I doubted very much that he was a scrawny kid beneath the fabric of his robes. Riddle was undoubtedly a powerful wizard, to boot. This much I knew for certain from our classes. The cherry on top though, was a legendarily short temper that was rumored to be a nasty fury akin to a whirlwind, the likes of which the world had never known before. Or so they said.

I panicked. It was only a book—there were hundreds more—and I could always work on my essay some other time.

But something (something stupid and irrational that must have wanted me dead) was telling me not to back down.

"Don't be brash, Kaitleen. I'm only taking it to a desk where we can work," he said softly, an indulgent smile pulling at his lips.

"You're mad if you think I'm working with you ever again," I hissed, sounding far braver than I felt.

"I must be insane then."

Riddle didn't wait for me to deliberate. He gently pried himself out of my grip and started off toward a table without a backwards glance. Angrily, I shoved my wand back in my pocket and hurried after him.

At a secluded table by a window filtering in weak sunlight, Riddle calmly set the book down and gracefully sat. I hesitated, glancing around us. We couldn't be seen from anywhere else in the library, not unless someone knew exactly where to go. I felt an inexplicable but overwhelming feeling of doom. Gulping, I watched him settle in, trying and failing to understand what was really staying my feet. Call it a feeling, I suppose. A bad feeling that constricted my throat and caused my heart to thump frantically in my chest.

He took out parchment and ink while I dithered there uncertainly, deliberating running. "Aren't you going to sit down?"

I sniffed with a sort of finality and sat on the other side of the round table, as far away from him as I could get.

"I think it would be tedious to _share_ a book when you're _all the way over there_," he said snidely, not bothering to look up from writing his name in his elegant script.

Rolling my eyes at his undeniable logic, I got up and took the seat next to him reluctantly. Desperate to gain back some kind of ground in this losing battle I was fighting against Riddle, I said stubbornly, "A gentleman would have moved."

"What ever gave you the impression I was gentle?" he whispered, smirking ever so slightly.

Unexplained anger mixed with unwanted curiosity bubbled up inside me. It was a simpler time when I didn't have to speak to the prat next to me and I could loathe him without any real cause. Six years into our happy enmity when we finally have to exchange words, and he _had_ to be _witty_? How dare he? The _gall_ of him! Charm and intrigue would never work on me, no sir, I vowed silently, narrowing my eyes at him. Riddle would learn that _right now_. "What do you mean?"

Without warning, Riddle whipped around in his chair like a snake and caught my lips roughly with his own in a hard kiss I was completely unprepared for. My eyes widened but before I had any time to react to it, he retreated, murmuring, "You should start writing. Professor Binns' essay will be long." He dipped his quill in his ink and scrawled. It was like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

_Had_ anything out of the ordinary happened?

I nodded mutely and set to work. My thoughts were fuzzy, my mind reeling. I still couldn't quite convince myself the kiss had actually happened. It _must_ have been my imagination. A very unwelcome part of my imagination, at that. I had spent so much time and effort today dreading Riddle, my imagination was fucking with me now. It had to be the only explanation.

We worked in total silence for a long time. The only sound was the scratching of our quills or the light flipping of pages. I kept checking my watch. Ten minutes. Twenty. A half hour. Forty-five. At five till, I reread my essay with a heavy sigh. Riddle was right about one thing: it was going to be long. Mine was now at two pieces of parchment and it wasn't even half done. I'd have to come back again, maybe even two more times in order to finish it—

"See? Not so difficult, is it?" Riddle asked, interrupting my thoughts as he rolled up his own essay carefully.

"It was actually excruciating," I corrected, doing the same. "_Please_ don't tell me you're done. I'd have to jinx you."

"Is that so?" He raised his eyebrow. "Lucky for _you_, I'm not. Shall we continue this tomorrow morning during our next free period?"

I wrinkled my nose at him, sneering "Don't push your luck, Riddle."

"Don't be like that," he drawled. "You _had_ to have as much fun as I did."

I wondered for a moment if he meant the essay or the kiss that I knew had only happened in my own head. Surely he didn't know about that. _I_ didn't even want to know about that.

"Did you forget?" he breathed, watching me with mischief in his eyes.

Five emotions and counting, I noted. Man, he was on a _roll_ today!

A second kiss cut off my thoughts and nothing I did could keep them from immediately scattering to the winds. All I had the capacity to grasp was the feel of his lips moving urgently against mine. My eyelids fluttered closed and my mouth answered of its own volition. I felt him smile and he pressed in harder, not allowing me even a moment to breathe. My lungs began to ache and my lips throbbed but I couldn't move. I couldn't break whatever spell he cast on me. It kept me riveted right where I was. Riddle could have killed me the way he effortlessly sapped the strength from my body, sucked the air from my lungs, stole my very will to live and breathe. He snagged my bottom lip cruelly in between his teeth and he pulled it away with a long measured movement. They scraped with agonizing slowness across the delicate skin leaving my lip feeling raw and tender and bruised from his violent kiss.

He smiled as we panted, dark eyes flicking over my flushed face greedily. "A friendly reminder," he murmured, and was gone.


	5. Chapter 5- Her Guilt

I remained glued to my seat long after the bell rang, utterly perplexed, my lip stinging painfully. There was no way I could talk myself out of that one. It had most certainly happened and I could neither figure out how or why. One second, we were talking and the next second—my head spun dizzyingly. What was happening? Nothing made any sense any more.

With shaking fingers, I hoisted my bag to my shoulder. I stumbled from the library, certain of only one thing: Jemma was never to know this happened. Ever. She would be heartbroken, betrayed, or worse. It was my duty, as a friend, or even as a remotely _sane_ person, to put a swift end to this…this…whatever this was.

The second bell rang and I jumped a mile in the air with its first toll. I was going to be late now too! That was all I needed. I raced from the castle making it to Care of Magical Creatures only minutes behind.

As soon as Jemma saw me, she knew something was up. It must have been all over my face, but I couldn't even find the strength in me to rearrange my expression.

"What happ—" she began but Professor Kettleburn had started his lesson, giving me a good reason to ignore her question.

As he spoke eccentrically, my eyes roved the crowd for Riddle.

But he was nowhere to be found.

I tried as best I could then to put him out of my head for the rest of class, and was mostly successful except for the tell-tale racing of my heart and my inability to fully pay attention. I spent the time miserably confused, but by the end, I had seemed to make some sort of headway in the mess of my brain, though I was no nearer to answers. The bell rang, class was over, and the Slytherins drifted away. I was getting hopeful. However any control I had regained vanished the instant I lay eyes on him. With a start, I found Riddle once again within his "gang." Somehow he had managed to slip back into the throng with no one noticing, rejoining us for double Charms.

I all but unraveled, grasping at my frayed edges to keep them from coming completely loose. Try as I might, he was all I could focus on. All class I attempted to catch his eye with furtive glances, but Riddle had resumed ignoring me, and he continued to do so for the rest of the day.

I fought to keep my utter confusion from drowning me. I tried to explain away his actions but my efforts were fruitless. I hardly believed any of my theories. What was worse was that some of them actually _hurt_. Theories like ones where he was only using me for a pleasant diversion, or that there was some sinister underlying scheme of his I didn't know about seemed both likely and horrible. They settled heavily in my chest like weights and made it difficult to breathe.

Even as I tried to write him off as an insufferable jerk, I felt the reality. Every time he simply passed me without so much as a glance, my chest felt as if it had been hit by a bludger. And there was certainly no way to explain away the bad taste these encounters left in my mouth. I couldn't say why it affected me so fiercely. And each time I got impossibly frustrated with myself—Why? _Why_? Fuck Riddle. Why did I _care_?—until the end of classes found me as a trembling, frustrated, tear-threatened wreck.

Meanwhile, whether Jemma merely chose to ignore my behavior or not, she was staying pleasantly none the wiser, still just as head-over-heels for Riddle as she had been this morning. She asked no more questions and moved on with her life, business as usual. Her perfect world was not yet shattered and, I had to admit, I envied her slightly.

Only hours ago, I was just like her.

Dinner was painstakingly drawn out. Riddle's continued disregard resigned me to an emptiness I couldn't explain and I settled in halfheartedly for a meal I couldn't taste.

Homework in the common room was worse. Though Jemma and I had managed to bully a prime table near the fire from some third years, I found myself unable to focus. It was all I could do to stop myself from looking over at him, desperate to lock eyes. I was desperate for any kind of assurance, any kind of acknowledgment about what occurred in the library. I sickened myself. Eventually, I gave up entirely and retired to my dormitory to work, but I knew the fix was only temporary.

I still had Prefect patrol.

As students filtered upstairs, I returned to the common room, ignoring the heaviness in my chest. Riddle was absent from his "gang." I groaned and pushed the hidden door open. He was absent from the dungeon corridor too. I began my patrol, not daring to hope that I could be so lucky.

All too soon, my hour drew to an end. It had been so anticlimactic, I was almost bored. There had been no signs of trouble or rule breaking, but even stranger, there had been no sign of Riddle.

Just as I was nearing the common room, very much looking forward to going to bed and leaving this day behind me, an all too familiar voice came from the shadows.

"Don't think you're getting off that easy."

I spun around, heart hammering, and faced him as he casually lounged against the stone wall with his arms folded over his chest. He had to be, in that moment, the most perfect example of "tall, dark, and handsome" that I could think of. I shook my head in disgust at that thought and spat, "What do _you_ want, Riddle?"

"Why so defensive, Kaitleen?" he asked, pulling his face into a slight pout. "I only wanted to talk to you."

"Well, I _don't_ want to talk to you," I sneered, feeling all the day's emotion well up unstoppable inside me. "In fact, I would appreciate it if you would leave me _the hell alone_. Do you have any _idea_ of the kind of day you've put me through? I won't have any more of it. Go away and leave me alone!" Immediately I wished I hadn't said a thing.

Riddle's face changed; so completely that I stumbled back and cowered into the opposite wall. I couldn't quite place what had changed, and I didn't want to look close enough to find out. His eyes flashed, his features twisted grotesquely. He stepped towards me menacingly, one hand reaching into his pocket, one reaching for me. Then suddenly he stopped and turned away, running a shaking hand through his hair. When he faced me again, his placid mask was back in place. As quickly as it had come, the rage was gone, and I felt more confused and horrified.

"You may want to be a little more careful," he said quietly in a flat voice.

"Right." I gulped and eyed him uncertainly. Riddle only stared vacantly back. "What was it that you wanted to say to me?" I ventured timidly.

Riddle looked over me coldly and murmured dismissively, "Perhaps another time, Miller." He tried to brush past me to the hidden door but I stood my ground.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright? Really. I didn't mean to… Just talk to me. Please?" I couldn't really believe I was backtracking. Despite knowing deep down that I had done the right thing to try to get rid of him, especially after my day, especially after what just happened, I didn't want him to be upset with me. I would do anything—say anything—to make amends.

He scowled at me then. His lip curled distastefully. Finally he mumbled begrudgingly, "I heard you were seeing someone in the U.S.. I wondered if it was true."

I blinked. It took all my self control to keep from snorting with laughter. Me? Seeing someone? Just the idea of it was hilarious! "Umm, no," I said, struggling to keep my voice even. "What's it to you?"

Some strain left his face and his mask even slid away the tiniest fraction. Riddle seemed…relieved. "It means everything to me," he breathed. Then he said the password, the hidden door slid open, and he stepped into our common room.

I silently followed, trying to digest everything that had just happened. There was so much to process and I was sluggish. Nothing matched up. "Riddle—I mean, Tom?"

Riddle stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at me curiously.

"I… Is-is that it?" I stammered. I hated the abandoned feeling that choked me and I tried to push it away.

He cocked his head at me. "What do you mean?"

"You said it meant everything to you. You won't even tell me why?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "_No one_ stands up to me, Kaitleen. I've always done what I want, unopposed—I _take_ what I want. And yet, ever since first year, you have opposed me. Most intriguing of all is you still haven't backed down." He crossed the space between us as he spoke, his dark eyes boring into mine. "I would learn why that is." He leaned down and once again captured my lips in his but this kiss took me by more surprise than the ones in the library. His mouth was now gentle and searching. Innocent in its mild curiosity.

But take it upon me for my first thought to be of Jemma. If she could see me now… Guilt churned sickeningly in my stomach as his tongue sweetly grazed my bottom lip. I pulled away with a ragged breath and looked at my shoes. Sometimes, my inane sense of friendship was so annoying.

"T-Tom, I-I can't. I don't really…" I whispered. All my decent instincts told me to tell him about Jemma's feelings. After six years of listening to her chatter, it should have been easy. Yet, at this very moment, I was feeling awfully selfish. "Never mind."

Tom smiled slightly, took my hand and led me to the staircases where we stood, unwilling to move, just gazing at the dormitory doors. The silence stretched on and all I could think about was how nice his hand felt, holding mine, his thumb tracing warm circles on my own. Suddenly, without a word, Tom swooped into a bow, kissed my hand and disappeared up the boy's staircase.

I couldn't even explain to myself how dazed I felt, just staring at the empty spot where Tom had stood only two seconds before. I fought to control my breathing as my heart raced and my brain struggled to connect. After some time, I regained enough willpower to make my feet move and I found myself in the girl's dormitory. I cast a nervous glance at Jemma's unconscious form as I passed her. What had I done? Everything would be different now. Everything would be wrong.

I changed quickly and as soon as I had settled under the covers, I was asleep.


	6. Chapter 6- Her Accident

The next morning I woke to Jemma's insistent poking.

"Kay. Kay! Wake up!"

"I'm up Jem, jeeze! Stop with the poking; I'm not a Hufflepuff," I mumbled, hefting myself out of bed. I changed slowly into my robes to the rhythmic tapping of Jemma's impatient foot. I halfheartedly fixed my hair in the mirror over my nightstand; Jemma heaved a loud, heavy sigh. As soon as I turned to announce I was finished, Jemma had my wrist and she dragged me down through the common room.

"I'm sure he's going to notice me today," she started babbling immediately. "I can _feel_ it. You know that feeling you get in your gut? Well, I feel it now. Tom _will _see me today. I've been thinking about it forever: our wedding will be totally classic and cliché—"

It took all my effort, but I swallowed an annoyed retort.

I could have told her about what happened. I could have said, _He won't notice you today, just like he didn't notice you yesterday, just like he's never noticed you any other day these past six years!_ _He doesn't care about you because you're a bloody hopeless idiot!_

I could have told her about how confusing it all was. I could have told her that Tom drove me crazy. I could have told her that I disregarded her friendship and took the love of her life for myself. I could have told her, and watched as it crushed her into a thousand perfect fragments. I could have told her that I was sincerely sorry.

Except, that I wasn't.

A small part of me half hoped that Tom would go back to ignoring me, that none of this had ever happened at all… and then there was an evil, selfish Kaitleen who craved his attentions. I wasn't sorry for what had happened. I wasn't even sorry that it would break Jemma's heart. Because finally, _finally_, I had something that Jemma didn't. I had something Jemma wanted. And I had it all to myself. That feeling was glorious.

Guilt flooded my chest as I admitted the sad truth to myself, hardly listening to Jemma's monologue. One way or another Jemma would have to know. There would be no hiding it. I tried to gulp down my guilt as she dragged me into the Great Hall. I tried to swallow the nerves that exploded in my stomach when I saw Tom.

But he paid no attention to me. He paid no attention to Jemma either. It was like yesterday never happened. Back to normal: invisible Kaitleen.

To my immense surprise, this punched a rather ragged hole in my chest. For just a fleeting minute, I had been special. I had been better. I should have known, I told myself. This treatment was no less than I deserved. Tom Riddle? He deserved someone like Jemma. I wasn't anything special, and besides, just yesterday he was my undeclared enemy. In that role, I had been perfectly happy.

Yet going back to the way things were felt impossibly heartbreaking. Maybe I hadn't actually been happy before, though I didn't seem able to determine a real answer. All I did know, was that I didn't want go back. Though it seemed that it really didn't matter what I wanted. Damn him! I found myself thinking. Damn that stupid, confusing, cold, cruel—

Riddle looked up at me as if I'd called his name.

At the same moment, Jemma squealed shrilly and clutched my arm.

Tom looked right into my eyes and I felt lost. I couldn't remember what I was thinking before this moment. I didn't even care that I was losing all feeling in my left arm. His mask slipped a moment; the corners of his mouth tugged up slightly, then as quick as it came, it was gone, and he paid me no more mind.

"Merlin's beard," Jemma breathed. "He looked at me! He even smiled at me!"

"Hey, Jem. Do you think I could…have my arm back? I…sorta need it," I joked weakly. Secretly I was saying, _Jemma, would you believe me if I told you that he was actually looking at me?_

"Oh! Sure. 'Course." She let me go and gazed dreamily into space. Translation: _I don't suspect you of anything, Kaitleen. Why should I? We're best friends after all. You'd never do anything to purposely hurt me._

"Thanks," I mumbled, playing with the bacon on my plate. Translation: _I'm sorry, Jemma._

The first bell rang and I gave a halfhearted wave to Jemma when she left for Divination. I watched the other students trickle away and wondered about my double free period. Riddle had mentioned continuing working on our history essay but I had certain reservations now. I was unsure of how he treated me and very unsure of my next steps. I could try to let him down again for Jemma's sake (and maybe my own too) or I could do what selfish Kaitleen wanted and sidle down to the library, find an abandoned nook and—

"Aren't you coming?" hissed a voice by my ear.

I jumped and uttered a small cry.

Tom smirked.

"You tell me," I challenged. "How do _you_ feel about me today?"

"The same as always, I assure you. Come, we have work to do, Kaitleen." Tom held out his hand to me, and I eyed it warily, unmoving. "What is it now?" he asked somewhat impatiently.

"Nothing," I lied.

His eyes narrowed. "No…Something is wrong."

"Nothing."

Tom swooped in close to my face and trapped me against the table. "Don't lie to me!" he hissed.

"I just… I-I don't understand what's happening. With you. With us," I found myself confessing.

His face softened but he didn't answer, he only smiled. "Come on. We ought to go." Tom proffered his hand again, and this time I took it.

He led me from the Great Hall and together we walked through the now empty castle to the library. I hardly dared to believe it. I was walking hand in hand with Tom Riddle.

I _wished_ Jemma could see me.

We claimed the same table as yesterday and after dropping our bags, we split up to scour the bookshelves for reference books.

Tom stayed close enough to touch—he brushed my hand with his own, his body would press in as he reached for volumes until I could smell his heady scent and feel the heat rolling off him in waves—but we spoke little. While I fought to catch my breath, he remained focused on his task. He piled books he had deemed noteworthy on the table, I struggled to even read the titles.

When I realized how far behind I was falling, I bit my lip and tried to block him out.

_Controlling Coups: How Magic Restored Order_. I fingered the spine and eased it out.

"I've got that one," Tom purred. He reached forward, covering my fingers with his own and slid the book back in its place. "Try again."

I licked my dry lips and tried to remember how my lungs worked.

_Goblins_. I reached.

"Too broad." His breath was hot against my neck and I suppressed a shudder. "Try again."

_Goblins at the Height of Their Power_. My fingers outstretched.

"Almost…" Tom's lips brushed against my neck and a breath I didn't realize I was holding came out in a soft sigh. His hands settled on my hips. "You're so close…" Simultaneously his tongue moved languidly against the pulse in my neck and his fingers dug into the flesh of my pelvis. My next noise was somewhere between a moan and a yelp. He shushed me. "Why don't you try…that one?"

I followed to where he pointed.

It was barely out of my reach. He could have gotten it easier than I could. I was about to tell him so when Tom moved away from me. I shivered at the sudden chill he left behind.

"Get it," Tom ordered silkily.

I looked up at the book again. I couldn't even make out the title, it was so faded, but I trusted his judgment. I'd take his word for it. It didn't look too hard to get down. I just had to...

On my tip toes, arm outstretched, I could just touch it but it was still very far away.

"Tom, I can't," I sighed.

"Do it!"

I stole a furtive glance at him. He watched me intently through narrowed eyes.

"Kaitleen, get. the. book." Something told me not to ask for help again. Either get the book down or...his voice told me I really didn't want to think about the other option.

I stretched again and grazed the bottom. I went as far on my tip toes as I could and could feel the spine. My head dipped and I bit my lip struggling to reach. Willing myself to grow was working about as well as straining for it. I could just get my fingers around the cover. My free hand pushed off another shelf. It was close…I knew it. I almost had it…I slid it towards me—

—And the whole shelf came with it! Dust and heavy books rained down on my head. I shrieked and tried to shield myself as they battered my shoulders, my arms. One exceptionally heavy one fell squarely on my head and pain split my lip, blood ran in my mouth. I choked.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

I turned my tear streaked face towards the furious librarian. I couldn't answer him. I honestly didn't know.

"Our apologies, sir," Tom answered for me. "Kaitleen knocked _all_ the books down. I _told_ her I would get it, but she was too _stubborn_."

The man fixed me with a livid glare and pointed his finger at me, shaking it with his every word. "Miss Miller, you HAD BETTER replace EACH and EVERY ONE and if there's so much as A FOLD, I will have you here in detention for THE REST OF THE YEAR!"

I nodded, pressing the sleeve of my robe to my lip, trying to suppress my hurt and frustrated sobs.

"WELL!" he screeched.

I fumbled into action under his piercing glare and collected the heavy tomes that had just assaulted me while he and Tom watched.

Satisfied I was checking them thoroughly before replacing them, he left.

When he was out of earshot, Tom broke into sniggers.

"What the hell?" I burst out angrily and his laughter ceased. "What was _that_? You didn't offer to help me! You _told me_ to do that!" Unable to hold them in any longer, my tears spilled over my cheeks and stung my busted lip.

"I didn't tell you to get all those books," he sneered. "I told you to get one. _You_ dropped the rest."

"I didn't touch any of the other ones! I don't understand. They shouldn't have fallen—"

"It's _astonishing_ to me that you found it _so_ difficult to take _one book_ off the shelf, Kaitleen." Tom pointed his wand at me and I found myself flinching away. "_Accio The Bloodbath of the Fifteenth Century!_" The book that had caused so much trouble hurtled from the floor to his hand.

"Well, I didn't know its name!" I argued, feeling my pride wounded.

"You didn't ask, you stupid girl." Tom grinned at my shock and placed the book on the table with the others. "Don't just _stand there_. Fix it!"

My lip trembling painfully, I kneeled and continued picking up books. The tears kept coming and I couldn't stop them. Places where I had been hit began to throb. My shoulders and my arms hurt just to move let alone raise. Crying made me grimace and grimacing moved my mouth and moving my mouth opened the wound and opening the wound stung and the stinging made me cry more. I was a useless mess, sobbing into my robe, picking up books with weak hands, still not wasn't fair, and it made no sense.

How could I have been so stupid as to forget the Summoning Charm? Tom was right. I was a stupid girl.

"Quit your blubbering!" Tom snapped from the table where he was now flipping through books as I worked. He added to his essay without ever looking up.

I pressed my sleeve further into my mouth to stifle the cries and willed my tears to stop.

Once the last book was replaced without any help from Tom, I teetered over to my chair and slumped into it. I was tired from crying and ached from the bruises I could feel forming, and I still hadn't seemed to recover from my shock. I had lost an hour of my free period and I still had to finish the damn essay. All I wanted to do now though was leave and find a corner somewhere where I could die.

Tom glanced at my pitiful form as he rolled up his finished essay. "All done?" he asked as genially as if he was asking about the weather, as if he didn't just watch me struggle miserably with myself.

I tried to glare at him, but even I knew it was weak.

He tutted at me. "The _state_ of you. You'd think you were nothing but a muggle fresh from the poor house." Tom sneered at me with disdain. I knew I must have looked awful: tear stained and blood smeared, caked and cracked on my skin. He pulled out his wand and when I jumped back he commanded, "_Don't move_."

I froze and eyed him uncertainly.

Tom gently tucked my loose locks of hair behind my ears and slid his fingers beneath my chin. He tilted my face this way and that, smirking.

"_Evanesco!_"

My face felt cleaner, at least.

He inspected my lip closely, his thumb trailing lightly over the fresh scab. I could only gaze into his beautiful eyes and try to get lost in them. If I concentrated on his handsome face, the pain seemed to lessen.

Instead of healing it, like I was expecting, he crushed his lips to mine. Tom swallowed my anguished cry and slid his tongue into my open mouth. His hands wrapped around the back of my head and he pressed in harder, teeth gnashing against my lips, his tongue threatening to choke me as it probed as far as it would go and filled my mouth with its tang. I fought back feebly but he staunched those efforts by massaging my tongue with his, dominating my mouth, taking any power I thought I had.

And then he was kissing me. Harsh and urgent and vicious. Too fast to keep up, too cruel to hurt. Each press sent a twinge of pain to my brain, a thrill to my heart.

And I surrendered.

With a final, shuddering breath, he ran his tongue along my lip, catching the split, drawing out my sharp inhale and consuming my last sigh with a gentle kiss.

Tom stroked my cheek, sending more shivers down my already dancing nerves. "You've learned, I take it," he whispered.

My head broke water. "Learned what?"

"Not to lie." 

* * *

A Note from the Author

I just wanted to say how blown away I am by the response this has been getting. It's been really thrilling to say the least! I've been trying to pump chapters out for you guys like some kind of mass consumption animal before the quarter starts up. Haha. I try! Riddle has certainly been consuming my life lately.

Thank you for reading! I know this one was long but it got real intense. I was struggling there for a bit, but perseverance got me through.

Reviews are, of course, welcome, and I even (I can't believe I'm doing this) invite you to PM me if you have concerns (but keep in mind that I reserve the right to disregard them, though I will always answer. :P).

Readers, this may be silly, but I feel like I've got a masterpiece here.

Until next time!


	7. Chapter 7- Her Lies

This chapter is dedicated lovingly to the chapter I wrote that didn't get saved. RIP sexy Riddle, power trips, and internal strife. May the most crippling of emotional trauma rise from your digital ashes.

* * *

The library was so still, I was sure my shallow breaths echoed deafeningly off the shelves. His words had taken a while to sink in. I was still shaken even as I dipped my quill in my inkpot under Tom's close scrutiny.

My heart hammered. Couldn't Tom hear it? He sat so close to me he _had_ to have heard it, maybe even _felt_ it. Surely he could feel it beneath his hand as it lay heavy and threatening on my leg.

I wondered if he could feel me trembling. I shook uncontrollably. Whether from fear or outrage, I could no longer tell. The emotions roiled against each other in the pit of my stomach until they were one in the same, indistinguishable. My thoughts were unintelligible, tangled like a knot of strings. Catching and pulling on one loose strand didn't untangle the mess, but only tightened and knotted it on itself making things even more jumbled.

Focusing on the essay was all I could do. It was all I had to ignore my own turmoil. It was all I had to block out Tom's piercing eyes; to forget his cold words.

My quill hovered over the parchment.

Tom pushed an open book towards me. His voice was sweet—"Get started. I'll help you."—and I was moved.

He pressed his lips sweetly to my temple and I uttered a small sigh. Tom gingerly draped his arm over my shoulder and ran his nose across my cheek. The warmth of him eased the ache and the uncertainty; I leaned gratefully into him.

True to his word, Tom helped me along the whole way.

He recommended useful passages, he shared his own explanations and edited my words as I wrote. All the while his fingers played in my hair, stroked it, calmed me. Whenever I paused, he leaned in to pepper my cheek with encouraging kisses. When I was focused, I could feel him staring. He caressed me tenderly, memorizing the contours of my face. Rather than distracting, I found his presence comforting and when I would pause to throw him a small smile, he would smile dazzlingly back.

Yet the dull throbbing in my shoulders made me acutely aware that something was wrong despite the fact that my brain tried to assure me otherwise. Despite that _he_ assured me otherwise.

I struggled to come up with a reason for my confliction.

Deciphering my accident was like staring through a window, old and thick with grime, and only vague, indistinguishable shapes moved beyond it. That was all I could see no matter how hard I squinted. Then a shape would beat against the glass. It would push and smear away the grit and I could just barely make it out—I started to recognize it—and then Tom would brush his lips against my skin and I lost all concept of thought.

I lost all direction.

All I was left with was a feeling. A _bad_ feeling.

But Tom's lingering touch left such a _good_ feeling.

There was truly nowhere else in the castle that I wanted to be right now other than in Tom's arms but at what cost?

I repeated the question over and over to myself.

_At what cost?_

Despite how hard I searched, I came up with no answer (though I felt that I _should_ have), and _that_ was more frustrating than anything.

Finishing the history essay was easy, especially with his guidance, and in no time I was rolling up my six pages of parchment with a small satisfied smirk. Tom chuckled at me and pulled me into a soft kiss.

"You are brilliant," he murmured to me.

"More brilliant than _you_?"

"I certainly didn't say that," he laughed, laying my bag carefully on my shoulder. I cringed slightly as it settled heavily against the knots I could feel forming. "There, there. Don't flinch, Kaitleen. I'd always admired your strength and determination…" Tom leaned in close and growled in my ear, "_Don't lose that_."

He smirked at my shudder and led me from the library. All I could focus on were our intertwined fingers and the hum it made in my heart.

"Miller!" I heard the librarian bark as we passed.

Tom and I exchanged exasperated glances but turned to him.

"All the books have been taken care of, sir," Tom purred. I squeezed his hand, and he answered in kind; I was comforted.

The thin, decrepit librarian rose slowly. "We will find out."

We waited until he thoroughly investigated the bookshelf and returned looking markedly disappointed.

"Can I _go_ now?" I asked.

"Watch your attitude, Miss Miller. I can still give you detention."

"So sorry, sir. _May_ I go now?"

I heard Tom snort and I smirked with him.

With a frown the librarian nodded and I practically dragged Tom away.

"The nerve of him," Tom scoffed once we were out of earshot. Our footsteps fell in time as I walked blindly, neither knowing nor caring where we were headed.

"Doesn't he have _better_ things to do than worry about something as stupid as books?"

"That's rich, isn't it? Coming from _you_?"

"What?"

I stopped abruptly and searched him questioningly.

His eyes lit up gleefully. "_You_ were practically _in tears_ when you lost _your_ silly book. I saw you. You were all upset. Or don't you remember?" He adopted a high pitched voice that I knew instantly was supposed to be mine and moaned, "_Oh, my book! My favorite book! It's gone! It's gone and I'll never find it again, whatever shall I do? Boo hoo…_" He laughed. "The look on your face when you saw I had it. You were going to cry _again_. And then you _begged_ for me to give it back."

I just spluttered at him, wounded and flabbergasted. I floundered for something spiteful to say.

"Look at you now, trying to defend it. Don't bother. It's unbecoming." He grinned and leaned in close, his lips barely touching mine. His breath ghosted over my face. "You are weak, Kaitleen. And if there's one thing I can't _stand_, its weakness."

The bell rang and the castle shuddered with life. Unanimously, students stirred, bags rustled and chairs scraped.

I blinked away the haziness I felt at his closeness and I shoved him away from me. "I'm allowed to have a favorite thing, Tom. At least that's better than writing in a bloody _diary_," I spat.

The color drained from his face and I pressed on.

"Yeah. Yeah, I've seen you write in that little black book. What are you writing so feverishly, huh? Little Tom Riddle's _feelings_? Is your diary _the only one_ that understands you?"

Tom's face contorted into a snarl. He grabbed my elbow roughly and dragged me in closer. "You—"

Doors banged open.

He looked around quickly as students flooded out then back at me indecisively.

Scowling, I made up his mind for him by wrenching myself out of his grasp and stalking away.

My first thought was, _I shouldn't have done that_. My insides inexplicably shriveled up as I thought it and then I cursed myself. What had I done to deserve that? Nothing! Why was I suddenly so afraid? I never feared him before.

Without him immediately near me, my head cleared.

Sure, he was going to hate me, but that was best. He was awful. True, I had just destroyed my only shot I had with the gorgeous boy, but that was good in the long run. It saved me plenty of trouble.

I touched my arm and winced.

Something fishy _had_ happened at the library, I was sure of it, even if I couldn't put my finger on it.

This was much better, I assured myself as I walked on alone.

Somehow though-I looked at my solitary hand-I didn't seem to believe it.

Every logical bone in my body screamed to let it alone, but my heart wasn't on board. I found myself feeling strangely guilty. I had said some equally hurtful things too. Maybe…maybe I ought to go back and apologize. It was just a stupid book, and I had been upset; he would understand, right?

I wrestled with my pride and better judgment while I walked, leaning more and more towards apologizing, but when I had finally settled on going back, I ran into Jemma.

As soon as she saw me, her eyebrows knit with worry. "Merlin's pants, Kay! Your face! What-what happened?" She reached out to touch me and I shrunk away from her.

I had completely forgotten about my lip and for a moment, I grew anxious for Tom. "I-what? Nothing! It's nothing."

""Nothing," Kay? That's not "nothing,"" she huffed.

I was touched by her concern, but I didn't deserve it. Especially not with what I was doing to her without her knowledge… "I don't want to talk about it," I snapped at her. "Let's just go."

She frowned at me, but she dropped it and followed as I headed for Transfiguration.

I continued to rationalize my feelings for Tom as I went but I was spinning in circles, head and heart terribly conflicted.

As we drew near the crowd of students milling about the door, I spotted him. Lestrange gestured madly while Tom listened with an annoyed expression. Tom yawned and scanned the crowd. When he caught sight of me, his lip curled and he pointedly looked away.

I had to resist the urge to run forward and throw my arms around him and sob an apology into his robes. The suddenness of the feeling crippled me, constricting my throat. I wondered at how I could have just convinced myself that it was best if Riddle was out of my life but then feel so strongly when I saw him again. How could I hurt so badly when he rejected me when I had already rejected him?

The door opened and Professor Dumbledore towered impressively in the doorway. He usually wore brightly colored robes with a matching pointed hat, and today they were jade green, clashing against his long auburn hair and beard. The corridor immediately shushed and students began filing in past him. He greeted each one pleasantly by name, blue eyes piercing but kind. Many answered back just as cheerily, but several (mostly my Slytherin compatriots) waltzed on past with clenched jaws as if they didn't hear him.

I shuffled through with my head down but I met his outstretched arm.

"Why, Kaitleen, what happened to you?"

With wide eyes I fought the impulse to glance at Riddle and instead met Professor Dumbledore's piercing gaze. "I…"

"You weren't fighting, were you? You do not strike me as the type."

I could feel everyone's eyes on me; Riddle's in particular must have been burning through me. If I waited long enough to reply, maybe I'd catch fire. That would be preferable to scrambling in my head for a suitable answer.

"N-no, sir," was all I could muster.

"What then?"

"I…fell."

He looked skeptically down his long crooked nose at me and I could feel my heart hammering frantically.

"I tripped and…well…" I laughed shakily, gesturing at my face.

Dumbledore nodded slowly but I had a nauseating feeling that he knew I was lying. "Do be more careful, Kaitleen."

"Y-yes, Professor Dumbledore." I glanced at Riddle as I found my seat, but he was ignoring me.

He continued to do so for the rest of the day.

* * *

Author's Note:

I'll be the first to admit I didn't feel _great_ about this chapter. The other one was real good, I swear, but then _by some cruel twist of technological fate_ it didn't save!

A moment of silence for my lost chapter.

*sad trumpet plays*

But the positive side is that I got to work suspicious Dumbledore in! :D

Reviews welcome. Until next time.


	8. Chapter 8- Her Decison

The hours bled together in a whirlwind of contradicting emotions. I wanted more than anything to apologize but my better instincts told me to put him behind me. I wanted to do nothing but hate him while my body ached to let him in. I tried to reason with myself. I tried to bargain with myself. I tried to say that since Riddle treated me as if I was invisible—again—that my mind was made up for me. He must not want any part, and that was good. Leave it that way, you idiot. But I was suddenly sad to see him go. I was sad to lose him—_Had_ I lost him? Had I ever even _had_ him? The uncertainty confused me more than anything. I had countless questions I couldn't even answer and that kept me in a sort of limbo I couldn't seem to shake. The only thing I was certain about was that I somehow deserved this. I dared to hope and now I was paying the price. This belief did nothing but make every breath hurt a little more each time.

Focusing on anything—school, dinner, homework—was out of the question. I mustered only blank stares to match the emptiness I felt creeping up inside me.

Jemma prodded me at first (growing only more suspicious when I recoiled from her hand on my arm) but after many attempts at drawing me out, she resolved to let me sulk in the end. For as annoying as Jemma could be sometimes, she was a good friend when it counted. Not like me.

My throat constricted with remorse.

The common room was boisterous that night.

The announcement of tryouts for the Slytherin Quidditch team had been posted and the second years were buzzing with excitement at the prospect of proving themselves to the whole house. I observed them all from a corner sofa and willed the noise to drown out the chaos in my heart. I let it wash over me. Numbing myself in their enthusiasm restored some semblance of liveliness to me. When Jemma realized this, she refused to let me go back. She ran upstairs and came back huffing with our Astronomy homework.

"You like this sort of busy-work stuff," she told me breathlessly, blue eyes wide with desperation. "Maybe it'll make you feel better?"

I smiled at her apologetically and let her distract me further with star charts. She enlisted my help with her homework and I immersed myself in mine.

Then roars of laughter split the low, exited chatter and all eyes turned towards the commotion.

Riddle stood with his wand out. He grinned wickedly at a small, teary eyed second year boy, his "gang" hooting loudly behind him. The boy jumped in the air waving his arms frantically, trying to reach a shiny, new broomstick but each time Riddle would raise it just out of the boy's reach.

"Please!" the boy cried, jumping again.

"Unfortunate, isn't it, that you can't seem to fly without your broom? If only you were a little taller," Riddle sneered, again keeping it out of the boy's reach. Uneasy chuckles resounded from around the common room. Eyes darted between Riddle and the boy nervously. Some returned quietly to their work, hoping they wouldn't be next. I watched, the first real feeling I'd had all day filtering through my blood.

"I'll show you!" The boy whipped his own wand out but he faltered when Riddle's "gang" doubled over in laughter.

"Put that away. You'll hurt yourself."

"Give it back or I'll-I'll jinx you!"

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Lestrange caught the boy's wand with a wide smirk on his chiseled face. Riddle's "gang" all cackled and pointed in response. Lestrange twirled the boy's wand between his fingers and goaded him, "What would someone like _you_ do against us? We're the—"

"Please! Give it back!" the boy sobbed over Lestrange, no longer listening. He made another useless grab.

"Tell me, boys," Riddle called nonchalantly over his shoulder, "Did he say, "_Break it?""_

"That's what I heard," Lestrange agreed savagely.

"Nooo!"

Riddle focused his magic and the broom began to vibrate dangerously, the polished wood threatening to crack as it bucked. The boy sobbed uncontrollably.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Riddle's wand flew from his hand. The broom clattered to the floor. The entire room went deathly quiet. Every head turned.

My chest heaved, my wand still outstretched. My face burned but I glared at only Riddle, daring him to look at me, to challenge me. All the uncertainty I had felt disappeared in a feverish anger. I was certain _now_ why I shook. I felt my aching shoulders, throbbing even now as I had my arm raised. I felt my lip, stinging as I bit down on it to keep from screaming. The pain only fueled me on; I wanted to make him pay. I was certain—

He slowly turned his head to lock eyes with me and I gasped. His normally dark eyes were tinged with scarlet. I couldn't look away no matter how much I wanted to. I was rooted to the spot with fear, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Seconds stretched on and no one dared to move or speak. I found myself wondering which of his "gang" would curse me first. I could run, I told myself. Everyone was still in shock. They may not even realize I was making a break for it. I could probably make the hidden door if I bolted now. I could leave. I could leave Hogwarts—_England_—behind me. I could run—

"Oi!" Avery yelled, finally recovering and pointing at me.

Good thing he recovered too, I thought madly. He was already ugly so the dumbfounded look really wasn't flattering at all. I laughed at how preposterous I sounded and the sound shook more "gang" members out of their stupor.

Then several wands were pointing at me. I never tore my eyes from Riddle's (normal again—must've been a trick of the light).

I lowered my wand slowly and drew my shoulders back, ready for whatever they would hit me with.

His "gang" glanced uncertainly at Riddle.

"Don't we have to _be_ somewhere right now, Riddle?" I said in a shockingly even voice. I surprised myself with my daring. I inwardly congratulated myself for dying with some pride. "Or are you too busy?"

Lestrange sneered, "Watch your filthy tongue, mudwallower."

"_Silence_!"

Riddle's head tilted to the side as he regarded me a moment more before he laughed. He shook his head, eyes never leaving mine. His "gang" looked at him as if he had lost his mind. _I_ looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

"I suppose duty calls," he said softly. "Sorry, boys. Another time, perhaps?"

He spun on his heel, retrieved his wand and headed for the door. He paused in the opening. "Coming?"

I teetered, and then I was marching forward. I ignored Jemma's open-mouthed stare. I was blind to everyone else in the room, frozen in shock. My heart pounded furiously as I finally made up my mind.

"K-Kay?" I heard Jemma stutter.

The door closed behind me.

I lunged forward as Riddle faced me and I pinned him to the wall with my momentum. I seized the hems of his robes and yanked his lips down to mine. He was frozen at first by my hard, sudden kiss but he matched my urgency quickly. One hand fisted in the back of my robes, pressing me closer to him, the other reaching up to tangle in my hair. We kissed fiercely, desperate to press every inch together, until neither of us could breathe.

Tom grinned into the kisses and frenzied laughter gurgled in his throat. I seized my advantage and pushed my tongue into his open mouth. I felt myself melt into him, relishing his taste when his hand in my hair wrenched me away. A strangled cry escaped my bruised lips as he bent me over backwards supporting me with his arm pressed hard on my back and hovered tantalizingly over me, panting, eyes dark and wild.

"You are too bold, Kaitleen," he warned huskily. He briefly brushed his lips against mine. "Remember your place."

My lip curled as a new flush of anger ran through me. I ignored the prickles on my scalp and snapped my teeth at his lips and he jerked back in surprise. "I don't have one, Riddle. And even if I did, _you_ couldn't put me there!"

His eyes glinted dangerously. "I beg to differ." Tom's face lowered to my neck and he ran his lips along it torturously. I closed my eyes, trying to hold onto my anger before he sucked it all away with his clever tongue. My hands moved to his shoulders. I dug my fingernails into them as hard as I could. Riddle groaned against my skin and unsuccessfully suppressed a shiver.

"I don't have a place, Riddle," I repeated firmly, glaring at him.

He looked up at me greedily and murmured, "Oh, but you do." He slowly straightened and I could feel him lift me back up vertebrae by agonizing vertebrate. "It is here."

I searched his face for a lie, some kind of trick. There had to be one in there. It was too impossible to be true. Tom stared intently back, unblinking. He pried one of my hands from his shoulder and pressed it to his lips. My heart fluttered.

He held me closer in a nearly convincing embrace. "It is _here_, Kaitleen."

"No," I whispered hoarsely, shaking my head.

"What did you say?" Tom hissed.

I gulped. He was right: I _was_ too bold. "I said, _no_. Don't you know what the word "no" means?"

"It is not a word I hear often," he said in his low voice.

"You'd better get used to it," I replied, wishing I could make myself sound more forceful. "I want nothing to do with you, understand? You'll treat me like this and then like I don't exist in the _same_ minute, and I won't stand for it." I made myself stare up into his intimidating face willing not to blink. His lips pulled into a sneer. I tried not to flinch. I tried not to move at all, but it was more difficult to fight the desire to get as far from Tom as possible than I thought. We stared at each other for a long time. Silent, in the empty dungeon corridor. As empty as he was...

Tom smiled gravely. "I am always _very_ aware of you, Kaitleen."

"Who's lying now?"

He eyed me with amusement and released me. I stumbled back a few steps and breathed freely again.

"I'm not lying," he chuckled lowly. Tom glanced around us and motioned with his head down the corridor. He walked away wordlessly, leaving me rushing to catch up with his long strides.

"I'm surprised at you. I thought you were smarter than that, Kaitleen," he simpered. "My behavior works in _both_ our favors."

"You have exactly two seconds to make sense—"

"That girl!" Tom snapped impatiently, glancing down at me. "The one you're always with—"

"_My friend?"_

"Whatever."

"What about Jemma?" I asked suspiciously, stopping him with a hand on his wrist.

"You're afraid she'll find out about us," he said simply. His eyebrow arched as he dared me to disagree.

My heart plummeted. "I-I…_You know_?"

Tom rolled his eyes and scoffed, "_Of course_ I know! Do you think I'm fucking stupid?"

"Then…"

"You mustn't doubt me, Kaitleen. I am only trying to help."

My mind struggled to make connections. "Who are _you_ trying to keep this from?"

Tom looked away. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that his pallid cheeks were growing slightly pink, but it was difficult to tell in the low torchlight. "I wasn't lying," he said softly. "You... You are _different,_ Kaitleen... Won't you...trust me?"

Every fiber of my being screamed against it. I tuned it out. My trembling hand reached out and turned his face to mine. His eyes roved questioningly over my face. I dared to dream there was softness there, and indecision and vulnerability. I pulled his lips to mine and he kissed me gently, demanding nothing, only the feel of me. My heart leapt at the feel of him, I hummed when his arms snaked around my waist, I sighed when I pulled away.

"I will, Tom. I trust you."


	9. Chapter 9- Her Mistake

So sorry about the space between updates. I had my water polo championships this weekend, but now here it is, the lovely next installment!

Beware of feels.

* * *

"Don't look now, Tom, but Lestrange is coming."

With an irritated groan, Tom pushed away from me and tried to look as if he hadn't just been heatedly snogging me for the past half hour.

"Hair," I whispered gleefully and Tom flicked a dark curl from his face and smoothed it all back.

"Just be quiet," he hissed at me. "And get behind that tapestry!"

I slipped into the hidden corridor and giggled.

"_Not. Quiet_," he growled through gritted teeth.

Pressing my hand to my mouth, I leaned back against the cold stone wall and waited for Lestrange to leave so I could get back to my favorite part of every day. Merlin… If someone told me a few months ago that I would be here, I might've jinxed them.

Tom and I had been—well, we don't really like to label things, you know? We've been…_this way_ for almost three months. We kept a very strictly secretive relationship and we loved it that way. It made everything more special and _fun_. Every moment together felt stolen, every kiss was taboo. During the day, glances were fleeting and precious; "accidental" touches were promises for a later time when we could be free. A time when we could drown in each other without restraint.

No one was the wiser. There was no need for pesky explanations _or_ a certain someone's crippling heartache so long as we pretended to ignore each other by day and only showed our feelings at night. We kept that part just for each other. It was personal, it was meaningful, it was…it was…_constricting_.

I shrugged those feelings off, the way I always did. We had the best of both worlds, he and I. Jemma was kept happy, Tom seemed happy, and _I_ was _ecstatic_.

While we were very careful, every once in a while, moments like these happened. When pretending not to care about the other was too much, we just couldn't wait until that night's Prefect duties. Today I had told off a particularly nosy Gryffindor and Tom had all but dragged me with his eyes to this abandoned corridor and hadn't let me breathe since.

"My Lord!" Lestrange greeted on the other side of the tapestry. "There you are! Where have you been?"

I imagined Tom scowling in my direction and I barely suppressed a shiver. The first time I heard that title had been a few weeks ago, and I had been dumb enough to ask about it. Tom had glared at me, withdrew, and did this infuriating thing where he didn't speak to me. This was something he did to punish me, I'm sure. If he ever tired of me or deemed me bothersome, he left no matter how much I tried to take it back. It used to happen often but the signs became familiar to me and I started to be more careful. There were places I didn't go, things I didn't ask, and though it made me feel uneasy, it stopped the pain. For though I knew these bouts never lasted, they did always hurt. Without the reassurance of the knowledge that I could speak to him later, I fell apart. I could barely do magic and I couldn't focus. Hell, I could barely walk! I would miss steps, tumble down stairs, bump into things—I even sliced my arm on a suit of armor once! I become downright _pathetic_, and it was always a wonder when Tom would glide back to me one night with a contrite smile and beg my forgiveness at his absence. I would always practically leap back into his arms.

"It is no concern of yours, Lestrange, where I go," Tom snapped.

"You were gone for so long, I—"

"What?"

"I just wondered if we were…meeting ahead of schedule?"

Curiosity bubbled up inside me and I had to fight the urge to peek out of the curtain. Tom must have looked livid. I was probably not supposed to have heard this, and if I was any kind of a good…whatever I was... I would plug my ears with my fingers and try to forget about it.

Fuck that, I wanted to know!

A loud bang resounded in the corridor that made me jump. A whimper followed.

"And if we were, you would know _if_ I wished, _not a moment before_!"

"Y-Yes, my Lord."

"Leave me."

Lestrange didn't move. "But…are we still…?"

I waited with baited breath as Tom's silence stretched on for three heartbeats.

"Yes," he murmured so low I nearly missed it.

"Tonight?"

"_Yes_." This time through gritted teeth.

"Until then, my Lord." I could practically hear Lestrange's smirk and then his footsteps were echoing down the corridor. Further and further…

I waited, unsure of weather I was really ready to come out after hearing about this. My mind was abuzz. Something was going on, Riddle was keeping it from me, and I was the kind of idiot that wanted to know what was going on.

Suddenly Tom yanked the tapestry back. I gasped. We stared at each other for a long time.

"Tom, what—"

"Don't!" he growled.

I chewed my lip under his glare but didn't look away. If I asked, he would leave and I would hurt. I certainly didn't want that. Maybe I could work my way towards it…

"What about our Prefect duties?" I asked innocently.

His eyes narrowed. "I think you can manage _one_ _night_, can't you? You're a capable witch."

"But what about…" I edged closer to him and fingered the collar of his shirt. I watched a smirk tug at his lips as I traced his chest lightly through the fabric. When I jerked on his tie, Tom was struggling to keep his cool.

"One night. You'll manage," he wheezed as I pulled his tie a little tighter. He leaned forward to close the gap.

I stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Yes, but _will you?"_

Tom smirked and kissed my finger. "It will be _difficult_."

Inwardly, I sighed. He hadn't taken the bait. Not that I really expected him to; it wasn't the slyest I had ever been, but I still wished he would have said _something_. The knowledge that there was something secret happening (something besides us) made me uneasy. I never trusted Tom's "gang" and if they were up to something…

But Tom wouldn't be up to something, he was a school Prefect, he got that award last year. He wouldn't.

An exasperated sigh pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced up to find Tom watching me in annoyance.

"What?"

"We both know that you will ask despite me telling you not to," he sneered. "Get it over with so we can move on."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Why? You wouldn't answer anyway would you? You'll just turn away from me—like you're doing now—and I won't hear from you—"

"Why can't you just keep your nose out of my business?" Tom hissed, pushing me back into the hidden corridor. "Why can't you just _do as I say?"_

"Because I _want_ to know, Tom!" I cried. Taking a deep breath, I glanced around and decided I shouldn't lose my temper. I shouldn't yell at him. It may not end too well for me if I did.

"You don't need to know!" Tom grabbed my arm right where I had fallen rather heavily into a chair and I hissed in pain. The bruise there was only just starting to go away but Tom dug his fingers into it. My teeth grit and I tried not to give him the satisfaction of a real sound. He always laughed when that happened.

"I want to know," I insisted as I grimanced, "because I want to be a part of your life Tom!"

He suddenly looked confused.

So I felt confused.

What was there that was shocking about that statement?

"_Why_?" he choked in a strangled voice.

I blinked at him, momentarily forgetting the pain shooting down my arm. "I-I just… You…" Nerves exploded inside me. Tom and I never talked much about how we _felt_, we just sort of _did things_, and that was enough for the both of us. Well, one of us if I was being truly honest. I consoled myself by believing that if he didn't feel the same way then he would never have bothered. Now I was starting to worry. "W-we…We're together aren't we?" I asked meekly. "Don't you think I deserve to know more about you? Shouldn't you be sharing more things with me? Shouldn't you trust me?"

Tom looked startled like I had just told him the sky was actually violet. And then, quick as lightning, he looked at me as if he had never been so repulsed in his life. He tried several times to say something, but nothing came out. He squeezed my arm harder. My heart shriveled up and died.

He shoved me against the wall and backed away a few steps, a weak snarl on his face. "You mustn't ask questions to which you don't want the answer," he said softly before he spun away and ran.

It hurt worse than all the other times. Stunned, I stayed pinned against the wall, the anguish welling up inside me. I felt like I had really fucked up this time. I pushed him too far and he ran. _My fault_. That was so stupid! I didn't even know what I was trying to accomplish with that confrontation. It certainly wasn't finding out what he was up to that night. I hoped it wasn't coaxing some kind of emotional connection from the horrible boy. Sometimes I would wonder if he even really had emotions. The way he acted sometimes… but then sometimes I would swear that he at least cared. If nothing else.

I wondered if he would come back this time. I was honestly not optimistic. I had a bad feeling that I had scared him off for good. This time, there wouldn't be a make-up in an abandoned dungeon. This time…

Somewhere far off, the bell rang.

I shook my head, wiped away pathetic tears and angrily made my way to Care of Magical Creatures. Whether I was mad at myself or Tom, it was hard to know.

When Jemma saw me, she looked me over once and turned away. She knew not to bother. We'd been here so many times. I showed up distraught, she would ask about it, I would shut her down. It was a dance we both knew the steps to and were too tired to do them anymore. I didn't know if that made me grateful, or made me hurt more.

Jemma was one person that had always cared enough to ask me. Sure, sometimes Tom would ask about a rough day out of obligation but he wouldn't listen to the answer. But Jemma…for the most part, Jemma would want to help.

But I shut her out so much, she stopped. She quit on me.

Even that day's lesson in unicorns wasn't a distraction. They sensed my upset which made everything feel so much worse. Whenever I drew near to one, the great, white, graceful beast would rear its head and paw their hooves on the ground skittishly. It was bad enough that Professor Kettleburn asked me to step back with the boys. I was embarrassed.

I heard Tom laugh at me.

When class was over Jemma strode beside me, seething, as we made our way back up to the castle. I could feel her annoyance but I didn't feel particularly up to engaging her, so I let the prickly silence stretch on and on, all the way up the grounds.

Her angry silence even persisted in Charms.

As it went on, it made me feel smaller and smaller.

I tried to casually engage her, but her retorts were clipped and eventually I gave that up to let her fume. If she let me mope, I could at least do that couldn't I?

After a heartbreaking two hours where I couldn't talk to either of the people that I wanted to most, I thought I was finally free to find a nice corner to cry in and plan my apology to Tom.

Jemma called me back as the class filtered out. I waited by her silently as she packed her bag with such painstaking precision, we were the last two people in the classroom.

"Can you cut the _crap_?" she finally snapped.

My first response was to deny there was any crap to cut but I didn't even feel like doing that. Whenever Tom left me, my energy was sapped. My energy to fight would always be gone. This time it felt like I lacked even the energy to breathe. Instead of saying anything, I looked at my shoes.

"What is happening to you?"

I shrugged.

"You're…you're really scaring me…"

Sighing, I met her gaze. "I-I don't mean to, Jem. Really. I just…" I just what? I don't want to hurt you? I don't want to share my biggest secret with you? I don't want you to know what a weak and despicable creature I am? "I've just been…really emotional lately…I don't know why."

"Pff! You can say _that_ again!" she cried, crossing her arms and glaring at me.

"I guess I'm just going through some stuff," I mumbled.

"_What stuff?_ Why don't you _tell_ _me_ anything?"

I looked up at her with wide eyes. This conversation felt overwhelmingly familiar.

"That's what I'm here for!" She looked at me with begging, exasperated eyes. "We're _best_ friends and…and I'm _worried_ about you, Kay…"

My throat constricted. I focused on my shoes as I tried to choke back tears and stop my hands from trembling.

"You disappear, you daydream worse than ever, you randomly turned into this bloody awful klutz, you're always covered with bruises—yeah, I see them, don't look at me like that, we share a dormitory, you _idiot_!—you get _so_ sad sometimes that _nothing_ I do makes you smile—Merlin, you had the _nicest_ smile, Kay…" Jemma's lip trembled and she played with the strap of her bag. She took a deep shaking breath and shouldered past me. "Some days, Kay," she mumbled, shaking her head, "It's like you're just _not_ the same person."

I followed her to the door, determined not to let her leave. I'd already been dumb enough to lose one person today. If I lost another, I…

She pulled the door open and I grabbed it from her and pushed myself in between. I shook all over and I tried to steady myself with my hand on the door.

"L-look, Jem…" What could I even _say_? "I never wanted it to be like this with us so-so maybe…maybe it's time that I told you—"

The door slammed shut.

I screamed.


	10. Chapter 10- His Jealousy

The door slammed shut.

I screamed in surprise then in pain as hot tendrils of pain shot up my arm through my hand. I felt it crunch more than I heard it and for a moment, I was too panicked to move. All I could mange was, "My hand! Ow, my hand!"

Jemma screeched behind me and dropped her bag. She raced forward and pulled on my arm. When I only yelped more she looked around for something more to do.

"The door! The door!" Tears started streaming down my face.

It took her a few moments to register, but then she hurried to the door and yanked on the handle but it wouldn't budge.

Now I really began to panic.

We both pulled on the door handle, wild-eyed Jemma throwing everything she had into just trying to open the door.

Through my haze of pain, I pulled out my wand. I was desperate enough to blow the door. "Move, Jemma!"

The door swung open easily sending the both of us sprawling backwards into the desks with a loud crash.

I pushed myself up with my elbows, whimpering in pain. My hand cradled close to my chest, I looked around in utter confusion. Through teary eyes I caught a movement of shadow beyond the door like the twirl of a cloak but Jemma was soon blocking my view, worrying over me. She babbled incoherently and tried to pry my hand away from my body. Every touch, every movement felt like fire in my veins.

"Ouch, Jemma! NO! Just stop!" I finally wailed.

Jemma was beside herself with tears too. "We have to do something! You should go to the Hospital Wing!"

"No!" I pulled my hand away and looked at it. It was bleeding a little around my knuckles and it felt like a solid dead weight. I could barely move it. I was aware of every heartbeat as it ached through my crushed veins. Already my fingers swelled. "I'm fine, Jem," I said weakly. I ground my teeth and forced my fingers to wiggle. My whole left side exploded in blinding pain. I tried to smile but was sure it looked more like a grimace. "See? I'm fine. No need to go to the Hospital Wing."

"Kay, what the hell?"

"It'll heal," I insisted. "It was my own fault, I-I must have slipped or something."

"Don't be stupid!"

"Please, Jemma," I begged in a quiet whimper. All I wanted was to go to the Hospital Wing like a normal person. But I knew that going to the Hospital Wing meant an examination. Madam Silva would find all my marks and would ask questions. Many were easy enough to explain: I fell here or tripped there. Some marks however, were clearly finger marks. Five evenly spaced circular bruises from when Tom got too passionate. A collection on my arms, congregated bruises on my hips, too many on my neck. For the most part they were hidden. I was lucky that Tom got rougher and bolder as the days got colder. Marks on my neck were easily hidden with my scarf or a sweater. But at the Hospital Wing…there would be questions and Tom would no longer be my secret. Or worse, maybe he would get in trouble.

Jemma glared at my broken face for a long time until she relented with a sigh. "You've been acting stranger and stranger… You _think_ you're okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," I lied. "It was just a door and I'm sure by tomorrow it will be back to normal."

Though not convinced, Jemma rolled her eyes at me. "It had _better_ be."

Except that it wasn't.

The whole night was nothing but anguish. By morning, it didn't feel like I had slept at all. My hand throbbed painfully all through the night and kept me awake. When the walls danced with murky reflections of the weak morning sun filtering though the lake I sat up and found my hand had swollen up to twice its normal size. It now hurt to move my whole arm, so moving my fingers was now certainly out of the question.

Through all this, I put on a smile. I had to.

Jemma eyed me suspiciously as soon as she woke up. She could see the bags under my eyes and the way I cradled my hand. Instead of nagging me about the Hospital Wing though, she helped me ice it throughout breakfast. She didn't say anything, just gave me a look. Maybe she hoped I would turn myself in. I knew that I couldn't do that, no matter how many nasty looks Jemma gave me.

I was definitely grateful to her, but her help was short-lived. She had double Divination and I had…double Time-to-myself.

Usually Tom and I would work together either in the library or in an empty common room. Scratch that. Some days we worked in these locations, other days I explored his gorgeous body and some _other_ ones he insisted on making me intensely uncomfortable by touching mine. But today I was alone with a possibly broken hand that I could do nothing about and my solitude hit me hard.

As Jemma flounced away, I chanced a glance at Tom. He met my glance for a fleeting second, looked me over scornfully, and turned away.

I let out a ragged sigh, my chest clenching painfully. I knew that wasn't how this worked. How silly of me.

Needless to say, those two hours were hands down the worst I had ever endured. I could create ice that wouldn't melt better than Jemma but that only soothed my pain for a while. I could only handle the cold for so long and when the tips of my fingers started turning white, I decided I should probably stop with the icing. Freezinf my hand off would not solve any of my problems. Instead, I tried to find healing spells. There had to be plenty, right? The nurse knew plenty! She had spells and potions so why couldn't I find any?

When I did actually find one, it was far too advanced for me. I tried it and failed and my hand ached worse than ever.

By class time, I was losing commission of my whole arm. All I could do was hang it loosely in my robe pocket and use it as a makeshift sling.

I wiped away tears and made my way to Transfiguration.

Dumbledore greeted everyone with the usual but he seemed to fix me with a particularly probing stare. I would have been annoyed with him if I didn't feel like chopping my whole arm off.

The heavy door swung closed and Professor Dumbledore swept to the front of the large, brightly lit Transfiguration classroom, his fuchsia robes dragging the floor behind him. He stood at the large oak desk at the head of the room and beamed at all of us, his arms wide. It was like teaching sixth year Slytherins and Ravenclaws Transfiguration was all he looked forward to all week.

I rolled my eyes.

"Today I will teach you how to turn yourselves into common objects like pocket watches or furniture, all manner of things really. This sort of Transfiguration, as I am sure I don't have to say, should be taken very seriously. It is easy to make mistakes but instead of having a silver matchstick, your own friend could end up with a candle for a hand or clock hands for a mustache or a curtain tassel for a…" He chortled to himself. "Well, you know."

Chuckles echoed around the classroom.

"As such, I must impose on all of you the importance of doing this correctly. Our nurse can cure us, of course, but better not to ask it of her. If you only listen carefully, no one shall have to leave with chair legs."

A few people laughed again. Beside me Jemma made a disgusted noise.

Professor Dumbledore beamed as he pulled his wand from inside his robes. "All you must do is hold your wand in front of you, just so. Then you reach forward with your other hand and make a sweeping motion with it while bringing the point of your wand down." He preformed it for us a few times, slowly. "See? Simple. Now, we all know magic within us can only be accessed with our words of power. For any kind of human transfiguration, all one must do is focus on the object you wish to achieve and say these words: _Egosumnon quodappareat!_ You may say them out loud or in your mind, this is not Defense Against the Dark Arts, it makes no difference to _me_." A Ravenclaw girl raised her hand.

"Yes, April?"

"Sir, how do we turn _back_?"

"Ah! Yes. Excellent question. The transfigured person must simply decide to change back, whether it be willing a finger to move or thinking about saying "hello" so someone passing. This exercise, my dear, is all in our own heads, as is much of our perceived lives."

The class was oddly silent after this statement and Jemma and I shared a reproachful glance.

"Now," Professor Dumbledore said brightly, "who would like to volunteer to come up and give it a try?"

No one moved. In fact, I'm pretty sure most people sunk into their seats.

He clicked his tongue at us. "Come now, trying new things is wonderful. Consider it an adventure! No one expects for you to be perfect, that is something we strive for ourselves, rather pointlessly, in my humble opinion."

"Humble, yeah right," Jemma murmured to me.

I snickered with her. We all knew that Professor Dumbledore had discovered the twelve uses for dragon's blood and had been awarded a place on the Wizengemot for it before he had even left Hogwarts. He had in no way a humble opinion.

He called on a student and he transfigured her into a coat rack in front of the class. He loudly encouraged her to focus on being human again and in a few seconds, the coat rack started to move and turned back into the girl.

"Too bad," I sniggered. "She was actually _useful_ as a coat hanger."

My Slytherin classmates chortled around me.

Professor Dumbledore fixed me with a reproachful glare before addressing the whole class. "Break into pairs and try it on each other before yourselves. I will be walking around the classroom helping where I am needed." He shooed us with his hands and the room collectively burst into movement.

Jemma and I stood but I shook my head at her. "I can't," I told hr in a low voice. "I can't move my arm, Jem."

"Oh no? What a surprise," Jemma replied sarcastically, raising her wand. "Maybe I'll change you into a damn stretcher. Then maybe I can take you to the Hospital Wing."

"Ha. Ha."

Her nose scrunched up, Jemma pointed her wand, stretched out her hand and focused. "_Egosumnon quodappareat!"_

I squeezed my eyes shut and waited, but nothing happened. "Well, I'm glad I don't have a tassel for a—"

"Jemma, you were not focused enough," Professor Dumbledore said as he strolled towards us, watching with vague interest. "You must clearly picture in your mind the object you wish to turn Kaitleen into. This spell is all mental. Why don't you try it, Kaitleen?"

I blanched. Jemma looked at me fearfully from behind Professor Dumbledore's back.

I slowly pulled my wand out.

"Remember to focus." Dumbledore watched my every movement keenly.

I hesitated. I could hardly focus on one trembling hand and the other aching one, let alone what I want to turn Jemma into.

"Your other hand, Kaitleen…"

With a dejected sigh, I pulled my hand out of my pocket and stretched it out in front of me.

"Kaitleen!" Dumbledore said in a hushed voice. "Your hand, my dear!"

I tried to hide it again.

"Show me, my dear."

I shook my head. "It's just a bruise, Professor, really. It's fine."

Dumbledore lowered his hand and peered at me over his half moon glasses very sternly. I squirmed underneath his sharp gaze. He could see right through me, I knew it. "Did you fall _again_, Kaitleen?" he said softly. I could hear the seriousness in his voice. "How many times does this make? That you've _fallen_…"

My head shook again and I mumbled the same thing that I've always told myself, "It was an accident."

He shook his head but didn't lower his gaze. "Kaitleen, is there _anything_ you wish to tell me?"

"No, sir," I said almost immediately.

Professor Dumbledore looked between the two of us and nodded. "Carry on. Just focus in your mind's eye, and remember that I am here should you need me."

Jemma whispered to me after Dumbledore walked away. "You should have said something," Jemma hissed.

"To Dumbledore?"

She shrugged. "If you can't trust him, who can you trust?"

Class went on too long for my taste. I was begging the bell to ring. Jemma tried five more times to turn me into whatever it was she was thinking of. She only succeeded one time in turning me brown and sort of woody. Just as Professor Dumbledore had said, I changed back no problem just by thinking about it.

Jemma was still laughing however until the bell sounded.

"Keep trying with a partner over the next week," Professor Dumbledore called over the din of shuffling bags and scraping chairs.

We exited quickly into the hall with the rest of the students. Jemma was bragging to me about how she had pretty much turned me into a broom like she had wanted. I rolled my eyes at her and wondered if I could skip our next class and try to find a potion that would help me heal.

"Wait. Uhm…Kaitleen?"

Jemma and I turned curiously back and found myself face to face with a vaguely familiar Ravenclaw boy. He was tall and broad shouldered with short, sandy blonde hair and clear grey eyes. He was handsome enough in a classic way with his square jaw and long, straight nose. I wondered where I knew him from.

"Ah," the mystery boy reached up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, color tingeing his ruddy cheeks. He looked between the two of us uncertainly. "I-I'm Edgar Nolan…I'm in your Ancient Runes class?"

"And Transfiguration, it seems."

Jemma glanced between us then said, "I'll just leave you to this one, shall I? See you in class." I watched her leave wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean.

I turned my attention back to him and suddenly remembered. "And you're on the Quidditch team!"

He smiled shakily and nodded, blushing madly. "L-look, I know Professor Dumbledore was giving you some trouble a-and I thought maybe you could use some help?"

I didn't understand, and I told him so.

"See, I'm pretty good with healing spells… Here, give me your hand." He held his own out invitingly but he must have sensed my indecision because he smiled warmly. "Really," he coaxed gently. "I want to help."

Somewhat suspiciously, I lay my left hand in his. It was quite a bit smaller than his and hot to the touch. I shivered in a kind of pleasant delight and my suspicion melted away when he pulled out his wand and set to work. I watched him with wondering eyes while he murmured an incantation I couldn't hear, eyes fixed on my hand giving me plenty of opportunity to appreciate his chiseled features (He had freckles spattered across his nose. How adorable!). The pain eased instantly, replaced by a warm tingling and the feel of his large rough hand on mine.

The tingling sensation lifted with his wand and he examined my hand closely. He shook his head and sighed, "It's not completely healed—"

"It feels much better," I assured quickly. My eyebrows knit together. I hope he hadn't heard how breathy my voice had been.

"It looks better." His forehead furrowed and he thumbed the sleeve of my robe away. "Do you want me to get rid of these too?"

I snapped my attention to our hands and my eyes widened when I saw the bruises left by Tom's fingers on my wrist. "No, it's fine!" I snatched my hand away from him. He looked at me in innocent confusion. "You've done so much already."

"It's really no trouble—"

"No! Okay?"

Edgar gulped and nodded slowly.

I sighed and looked away, guilt writhing inside me. "I'm sorry, Edgar, but it's okay. Really. Thank you for healing my hand. I really appreciate that."

He blushed and smiled in the cutest way, lopsided and bashful, his hand already coming up to rub his neck. "Ahh...any time! Really, I-I just wanted to help."

I smiled up at him then realized I had stared for too long. I looked away and wished he would leave. I didn't need this kind of mess in my life. As I am sure he didn't want my kind of mess in his. And Tom.

Dear Tom.

I was many things but unfaithful wasn't one of them.

Although Tom sure did like to make it seem like we weren't together, and he kept secrets from me, and would never really talk to me…

I shook my head.

I didn't deserve better.

"I'll see you later then, Kaitleen. I-In Ancient Runes?"

"Y-yeah. See you. Thanks again," I replied weakly.

We set off in opposite directions and I breathed a sigh of relief. Not just because my hand felt immensely better, but because I wouldn't have to deal with the kind of thoughts that Ravenclaw boy brought out of me.

Someone knocked into my shoulder roughly and I looked up to yell at the person who hadn't even bothered to stop, a nasty curse on my lips. But instead of giving them a piece of my mind, I choked on my words.

I knew that quickly retreating back. I spent too much time memorizing that sneering profile not to know it instantly.

It was Tom Riddle.

* * *

Okay folks,

I love this story _so freaking much _it'll _literally_ be the death of me.

I'm afraid I have spoiled you these past two weeks. I've posted almost every day and, well, my school is getting affected. I'm not going to stop posting! Don't get me wrong! But I just _would really love_ to graduate this quarter. So posts will come a wee bit slower, but believe you me-

They will come. :]

Reviews, I love reviews, they make me so happy, so feel free to leave them! :D Any artist loves when their work is appreciated.


	11. AnnouncementQuestion

**This isn't an update, it's an announcement/question for everyone interested**

* * *

_Sorry, sorry_

I am thinking that it's been enough time and my life has settled enough that I can come back to this story again, but the trouble is that I feel like my writing style might have drastically changed. :| Or at least evolved quite a bit since last I wrote for The Only One He Ever Loved.

So my question is would you guys rather I just updated and hopefully the change it how it read wouldn't be too bad? Or would you like for me to overhaul and update the whole thing? Sort of like The Only One He Ever Loved, remastered edition. Lol.

Feel free to PM me what you think. :)


	12. Chapter 11- His Influence

Alright...the long awaited, hopefully-still-okay _real_ Chapter 11! If you're new, welcome to my hell; if you're old, you deserve a hug and some fucking cookies with this as well because you've waited TWO DANG YEARS FOR THIS. I...I seriously didn't realize, wth?! There's a long apology and some discussion at the bottom if you want to stay for that, otherwise, enjoy!

* * *

By the time I had made it to bed that night, the only good thing I had to say about the day is that my hand felt loads better. Even if that Nolan kid wasn't a fully-fledged healer yet, he obviously knew his stuff. It was funny how I had never noticed him before if he was that talented. In Transfiguration and hadn't he said he knew me from Ancient Runes too? If that was true, then maybe that would mean I could make Nolan my new partner, just for a little while. Just to avoid Tom's cold shoulder...

_No!_ I cut myself off from that line of thinking immediately. No, I knew better than that. Tom wouldn't just let me go like that. And I was already in enough trouble as it was. Poking the dragon like that would be nothing but a death wish. I could always be grateful to Nolan for sparing me a troublesome trip to the Hospital Wing, but that was it.

Still, that didn't keep memories of his pretty face out of my thoughts as I turned over and over in my bed.

Then just like that, guilt boiled over in my stomach.

What was I doing? I was being unfaithful, I told myself. Tom _would_ come back. I knew he cared for me; he adored our private moments, exhilarated in them as much as I did.

I _had_ to believe my Tom would come back. To think otherwise would...

Well, I couldn't even bring myself to finish that sentence.

Yet I couldn't shake a certain nagging thought in my brain. Suspicion had latched itself in my mind: My interaction with Nolan made Tom _more _upset at me. He must have been waiting for me to get out of Transfiguration to make peace. It seemed like a very Tom Riddlish thing to do. To wait in the shadows out of sight for me to leave the room before sweeping me up into his arms and kissing me hard. The way he always did… An overly romantic, albeit dramatic ending to our fight.

But instead, he had seen the exchange with Nolan and then knocked into me to make sure _I_ knew it too. I had probably just ruined any chance I had to get back together with him. I could feel it.

But I hadn't done anything wrong, had I? Not this time, anyway. I tried to tell myself this but still, I worried. Nothing else had occupied my mind ever since; all through class, all through dinner, and even now. I thought over the five-minute exchange with the Ravenclaw boy in gross detail over and over... and then over again…

No. There was nothing. I had done _nothing!_

…right?

That was it. I officially felt too guilty. _No sleep for me_, I decided, sitting up and throwing the covers back. I found my slippers in the darkness and threw my robe haphazardly around my shoulders. But as felt my way out of the dormitory full of snoring girls, I paused for a brief moment at the foot of Jemma's bed. She was out like a light, pink and black satin sleeping mask over her eyes. As if the morning light that made it through the lake could actually wake any of them up. The dark green murk made for a perfect substitute for blackout curtains if you asked me. I smiled to myself as I watched her toss an arm and leg out from beneath the covers. How many times had she done that right into my face over the summer? How many sleepovers had we woken each other up with a wrist in the nose? I chuckled lowly. Too many.

The fondness that swelled in my chest soon soured into that same ball of guilt I'd been fighting all evening. _She deserved a better friend than __**me**_, I thought, gulping hard against a sudden lump in my throat. I had gone behind her back. I had taken the one thing she had wanted and I still had the gall to call myself her friend.

Maybe…maybe the best thing now—especially since Tom was probably never going to acknowledge my existence ever again—was to finally be honest with my supposed best friend. I could tell her that I had a brief relationship with Tom. I could tell her that I had thought it was going to be serious but then he had broken my heart. I could tell her that there was still hope for her. Maybe…

Or _maybe _she would spit it all back in my face. 'I don't want your sloppy seconds, Kay!' she would screech. I could almost hear her voice in my head, shrill and tinged with pain. 'How could you do this to me! You stole him! You betrayed me!' And just like that, any brilliant notion of coming clean shriveled up inside me.

I was too cowardly, too self-serving, too…Slytherin.

So like the lowly snake I was, I slithered from the room soundlessly and padded my way down to the Common Room.

The fire was burning low now. The only other people in the room were a three-man group of seventh years studying for their N.E.W.T. exams. They pressed their noses close to their parchments, quills scratching away. It was the only sound in the room except for the occasional turning page. Not wanting to think about the similar O.W.L.s I had coming, I wrinkled my nose at them and stomped down the last few stairs. But they didn't even move, not even a glance in my direction.

Just as well, I sighed to myself. It wasn't like I was in the mood to speak to anyone, let alone fight with them.

Instead, I settled myself into a window seat that looked out into the lake and…stared. I leaned my head against the frigid glass and watched the thick seaweed sway. Redcaps came and went, with their tiny scrunched up faces, darting between the weeds. They left bubbles that meandered to the surface and then everything would still. I watched the sand swirl with the current. I watched tiny flecks bob up towards the surface. At one point, I could have sworn that the shape of a humanoid loomed through the pressing dark depths. _Did merpeople live down here?_ I wondered. At Hogwarts? I tried to remember if I'd ever read that somewhere...

I sat there for a long time. I sat there trying not to think. At some point, even the seventh-years had decided it was late enough for sleep. I must have dozed; my body was so worn, my hand throbbing dully, that I _had _to have. So much had happened in one damn day…

A sudden, resounding crash in the empty room made me dart up. My heart thudded uproariously in my chest as I glanced around. I blinked and rubbed my eyes.

The door to the Common Room was open. A side table next to the closest armchair to the fire had been completely upended. That must have been the sound that woke me but it barely clicked in my frozen brain.

Because I realized I hadn't been alone in the room at all.

All I saw of it, the-the _thing_ that had been there was a very large and very scaly tail-It _was _a tail, wasn't it? It was so thick, muscles rippling along shiny blue-black scales that it couldn't be anything else. I froze, throat tightening in terror as I watched it. What kind of beast would stalk the Slytherin Common Room deep in the night? At Hogwarts! Headmaster Dippet would never stand for—

I uttered a tiny shriek as the tail whipped out the door, banging the wood against the wall. As the door creaked slowly closed, I heard low whispering. Only…they weren't quite whispers. None that I had heard before, anyway. There was a voice outside—_no, two!_—and they spoke to each other in a language I couldn't understand. I strained my ears to listen but by the time I focused, they had already stopped.

Then the next moment, a head of familiar neatly swept black hair stepped into the room and closed the door. When our eyes met, my heart flew to my throat.

_Run!_ Something inside me screamed, but I couldn't move. Terror and shock had me rooted to the spot. _Run!_ I told myself again but instead—

"Tom?" I squeaked in horror.

His pale face looked equally stricken and his eyes darted between me and his own dormitory. I wondered if, maybe, for the first time ever, I had caught him totally by surprise. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to be smug about it.

"_Kaitleen!_ What're you—"

"I—"

"You should be sleeping," he murmured. Tom ran shaky fingers through his hair and took deep breaths to collect himself. When he leveled his gaze with mine once more, his face was neutral. He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumped slightly and all I wanted to do as reach out and hold him. "Did you fall asleep down here, too?" he yawned with an awkward, half-hearted stretch. "I think that perhaps it's time for bed, Kaitleen. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I…" Glancing at the closed door where I saw the monstrous tail disappear, my brows knit. "I was asleep…but-but then that thing woke me up!"

Tom cocked his head at me and glanced over his shoulder at the door where I was looking. "What 'thing'?"

"That-that—" I stared incredulously at his genuinely curious expression. "It was some kind of _tail_, Tom! It was bloody massive! And it just went through that door!"

"I…think you must have been dreaming, Kaitleen," Tom said gently. "How could anything like that be at Hogwarts? That's simply absurd!" He shook his head and smiled at me as I gaped at him. That smile, it was heartwrenching but too tight. It didn't touch his eyes. "Some _dream_ though! Think you might have been watching the squid before you fell asleep? Sounds more plausible to me. Think back; did it look more like a tentacle?"

I furrowed my brows and exhaustion enveloped me. I felt so heavy, foggy with sleep now that my heart had stopped racing. I _had _been sleeping. Sleeping pretty soundly too. And I had been staring out at the lake. There were all kinds of large creepy animals out there. Had I really seen scales? They had shimmered like scales in the low light, but, then again, something wet would too. A wet appendage like…like a giant tentacle. But—

"But you weren't here, Tom," I murmured, looking up pleadingly at him as he drew closer. I could have sworn it was just me and the seventh-years earlier.

He laughed. "Well, of course I was, Kaitleen! I was right over there." He pointed to the corner of the room, past where the three seventh-years had sat. "Behind them," Tom said smugly. "Silly girl, you must not have noticed me."

My shoulders slumped as understanding crept into my bones. I must have missed him because he's been ignoring me. Seeing him, even from across the room, is just too painful. It made sense that my automatic response would have been to ignore him. That must have been it.

I had flat out missed him.

I looked up at him, half-daring to ask about us, when my eyes found the table behind him. Lying on its side. On the floor.

"No!" I cried, glaring up at Tom instead. I pointed out at the table, the side table that the creature in my dream had upended too. "The table! The tail—tentacle—whatever—knocked it down! And there it is, knocked down! I couldn't have been dreaming, Tom. I couldn't have..."

Tom scowled as he followed my finger but he shook his head at me again. He grabbed my wrist and I winced as his grip tightened, then he shoved it down to my side. "Are you that _dense_, Kaitleen? I was practicing Dumbledore's Transfiguration spell earlier."

"…On the table?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "No, stupid girl, on _people_. I used it on a third-year earlier this evening. He made for a far more handsome coatrack. I did him a favor," Tom added with a snigger. "When he fell over, he took the table with him. Looks like no one's bothered to fix it all night. Sloppy of them, wouldn't you say? The people in this place are so damn careless."

That's right. I remember the commotion after I came in from a lonesome Prefect patrol. I heard the thud and the laughter as I started towards the dormitory steps, but I hadn't bothered to look back and watch. Almost immediately I had heard Malfoy shout, "Perfect spell, Riddle!" and that had me gnashing my teeth. It was so stupid. I was angry and frustrated and I didn't want to see _Tom _perfect the spell that I hadn't even had a chance to practice. So instead, I stormed to bed.

I must've missed the upturned table too when I came downstairs again. I was super distracted and tired and in pain. I overlooked things, especially when I was like that. All I had wanted to do was look out over the lake and that had been all that mattered to me. Then, I fell asleep watching the giant squid laze around, its tentacles feeling into the weeds. So I had dreamed about him, and his long slimy tentacle feeling around the dark Common Room. I shuddered again at the thought of it.

I guess it all made sense.

I glanced back up at Tom before rubbing my eyes with my knuckles. "Yeah…weird dream… I love the lake but I guess I know better than to fall asleep by it now."

"I would hope so," Tom smirked. "I'd hate for you to have more nightmares like that one."

I stood on shaky feet and tried to remember how to breathe. He was quite close to me. After an awkward pause where I looked at everything except Tom, I braved in a tiny voice, "Tom, does this mean that we're—"

"No," he said.

"But, Tom—"

"Stop whining, Kaitleen," Tom spat as he brushed past me. "Begging will do nothing. You know I hate that." The corners of my eyes started to burn. I tried to tell myself it was the exhaustion catching up with me as the tiny flame of hope in my chest snuffed out. "Also, make yourself useful and fix that table. We wouldn't want you tripping over it in the morning, would we?"

* * *

Days passed and all I felt was numb. The plus side was that my hand had gotten considerably better. I could move it by the end of the weekend. It was even well enough to practice the Transfiguration spell, which (I was glad to note) I could perform as perfectly as Tom. All I had needed was a hand that didn't make me want to rip my entire arm off.

So…go me, I guess.

Jemma and I practiced tirelessly that Sunday night, though it was more for her benefit than mine. Still, the best she could seem to do was turn my skin wooden. Although I assured her that by the time we decided to quit I couldn't move my body either, I'm not so sure she believed me.

She huffed and tossed her hair behind her and sighed, "You've always been way better with these spells than me."

"You brew potions better, Jem," I offered. I shook my arm out and watched as it turned from grainy wood back to its normal peach.

"So… Jemma: 1; Kay: 15. _Great_."

Perching myself on the arm of her chair, I shook my head. I could feel my cheeks heat but I kept trying to deny her assertion that I was better than her at everything. There had to be some skill of Jemma's that I was forgetting. Did beauty count as a magical skill?

"Stop being humble," Jemma said firmly, looking up at me. "It _doesn't_ suit you." She cocked an eyebrow and chanced a peek across the Common Room. I knew exactly where she was looking because I had spent the evening trying very hard not to look there.

Yet even as I forced myself to keep from swiveling my own head around, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck raise. I still hadn't forgotten my weird dream, or the way thinking about that night made my head fuzzy with confusion. And then there was Tom, who had finally spoken to me again and then just as coldly dismissed me. Sometimes I wondered if that had been a dream too, brought on by my foolish desire to be with him again. The entire weekend had gone by without even a peep from him. I was starting to think it was actually over between us.

"How will you ever best Tom Riddle if you keep acting all humble like that? _He _never is. And you wanna be better than him, right? The first step is owning up to your talent." Jemma's words took some time to sink in. I blinked at her determined face.

"What?"

Jemma rolled her eyes at me. "Look, I know that you have that little competition with him. I know you don't like him. It's been that way for_ever_. And…" She fidgeted in her chair as she averted her eyes, chewing on her lip. "And I know that you just quietly put up with me talking about him all the time. You're a real friend for that, y'know? You listen and put up with me even though you don't like him. I just…"

"Jem," I gasped, "look, it's okay! That-that's what friends are for!" Even as I said it, a hard ball of guilt wrenched in my stomach.

"I get jealous of you sometimes, Kay. If I was half as smart as you, maybe he would notice me."

"I don't know if you _really _want that…" I mumbled. All I had to do was think back to the hard way Tom kissed me to know that delicate little Jemma would have a bad time. Only...thinking about Jemma and Tom together gave me my own brief spurt of jealousy. Jem easily replaced me in my mind's eye. She coveted all the stolen kisses and low whispers in her ear as they passed each other in the hallway. But it could be worse still. Maybe Tom and Jem wouldn't hide their relationship like Tom and I did. I culd just imagine people parting in the halls for them. Tom and Jemma, the most beautiful couple, a true match made in heaven that made my stomach _churn_.

"Maybe not," Jemma replied, pulling me away from darker and darker thoughts. "He _does _seem like a total stuck up wanker sometimes. But I'll never know that for myself, will I?"

"You might," I managed weakly but Jemma shook her head.

"Doesn't matter. The whole point of this was to say 'thank you,' Kay. Honestly. Thanks for being my friend and…well, thanks for coming back to me. It's been a weird couple of months without you being here. Really _here_. If that makes any sense." With that, she gave me an earnest smile.

I returned her smile and tried to shrug it off, but I was grateful for the warm happiness that filled me. It stayed with me long after Jemma had announced she needed her beauty sleep ("Another day, another chance to solve a Riddle, right?" she said with an ironic wink).

I hadn't realized how much _I_ had really missed Jemma until I was staring unseeingly at my Ancient Runes book.

I had ignored her out of guilt, gone through the motions with her, but for what? So that she wouldn't notice something was different? Well, I had made a huge blunder of that one! In fact, it was so bad that I was pretty sure I could cross "acting" off my list of possible careers after Hogwarts. Jemma had seen right through me and my acting different had upset her, as it would any real friend.

So...maybe it was time for me to be a real friend too.

Once upon a time, Jemma and I could tell each other anything, everything. And it could be again, but I'd have to be the one to start. Jemma's words had struck a real chord with me. She was grateful to have me back, and I was grateful to be "back." Truly. It was time to fess up, I decided. I could do that, couldn't I?

At this point, I figured I owed it to her.

And by the time I finally walked up the dormitory stairs, I was already planning. No misdirection, no lying and no letting her down easy. _'Jemma, sit down,'_ I'd say. _'I need to tell you something. I started seeing Tom a while ago and I wanted to keep it from you so you wouldn't be mad but then he broke up with me so now I'm really sad. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad!' _Okay...maybe not so direct after all. That sounded horrible. I had done a really bad thing to her, something that I didn't believe she would even do to me, so I had to do better. But it sure was a step in the right direction. Even a small step was like a tremendous weight lifting off my shoulders, like a string of guilt unraveling in my stomach.

I was going to finally tell Jemma. Everything, this time.

* * *

Okay. I am so sorry for leaving everyone hanging for so long. Truly! Like, that is from the bottom of my little heart. It was so inexcusable. I am also sorry for basically ignoring reviews. I've recently understood that reviewing stories is a two-way street and I really ought to respond to you guys, _especially_ when I am the one asking for feedback. I'm promising myself and all of you that I'm going to do better.

I also think that I really want to finish this story. I don't like it hanging over my head because, for those two years, I really did think about it. _Often_. I _knew_ I had to come back and come back soon, and, while it's not an excuse for most of that time, I've had some recent issues. I had the best intentions in December, but then stuff with my boyfriend of the time started...coming to a head.

It's...very difficult to admit, even now, but I found myself the unwitting victim of his emotional abuse. Gaslighting, to be exact, the same kind that I utilize here for Tom Riddle.

Dude, like...if that's not some god damn irony, y'know?

But since January, when I figured it out and broke up with him, I've been coming to terms with it. Honestly? It's been tough. I had no idea how difficult this sort of thing was and how much worse it is to even talk about it! But then I started writing some stuff. And Tom Riddle kept showing up in those short blurbs. So for my mental health and yours, I decided to pick this story back up, revamp it and (kinda hopefully) work some shit out. I want to finish it now. I really do.

And, like, I'm not putting this out there for the "sorrys" or what have you, that's seriously not important. I want to make abuse something that can be talked about. In what little way I can. I mean, it sounds very high and mighty, sorta dumb coming from a lowly Harry Potter fanfic writer, but...there it is.

And if you don't want to see a little rant about abuse, this has been your warning.

I also would like to reiterate that abusing your partner is **intolerable behavior**. It seriously fucks people up, man. Don't do it. And if it's being done _to_ you, **don't take it**. There's a person you can trust-a friend, a parent, a professional, or, honest to god, even a stranger (seriously! I talked about a horrible fight I had with my ex to a complete stranger once and even they told me that sounded out of whack!)-that will be more than willing to help you. Not everyone's experience is the same as mine, I get that. But I know that there was a little inner voice that was always telling me that my interactions with my ex were off, or that he was making up stuff to shut me up. _**Listen** to that inner voice, it knows the fuck is up!_ Gaslighting is all about distorting reality and the people that use it have mastered subtlety. Below are just a couple of links that helped me out:

a href=" /2014/08/24/why-does-he-do-that/"Why Does He Do That, a pdf book/a (should be a free download, but if not, I know there's a free one out there somewhere)

a href=" /guy-talk/telltale-signs-youre-dealing-with-an-emotional-manipulator-fiff/"an article on the basics and spotting emotional manipulation/a

Okay... Sorry! I needed to rant a little. Hopefully that doesn't make me look totally dumb. Haha. I apologize for dumping some heavy stuff on you guys, but I felt like it had to be said.

Please enjoy the rest of your evenings. :)


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